


Source of the Mountains: Heirs and Gods

by CousinBraeburn00



Category: Frozen (Disney Movies)
Genre: Dark Magic, Differently related Frozen characters, Drama & Romance, Eventual Happy Ending, F/F, Hans is a young cutiepie, Romance, Slow burn but really it's not it's just Anna being emo, Swordfighting, Swords & Sorcery, Tangled characters - Freeform, There be some iffy gods, Unrelated Anna/Elsa (Disney), Unrelated Frozen characters, in which Anna is the dramatic one
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-21
Updated: 2020-04-27
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:28:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 22,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23241751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CousinBraeburn00/pseuds/CousinBraeburn00
Summary: The Days of Games has come to Arendelle. Perhaps the influence of a fiery foreigner can help Elsa see the changes she wants to make for herself. Together they may be able to discover their true selves. But dark magic also comes calling, luring in the last person Elsa would expect. Alternate Universe unrelated Elsanna. Contains Tangled characters. Rating and tags will change in later chapters.
Relationships: Anna/Elsa (Disney)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 18





	1. Prologue

Pain.

Sudden pain along the crown of her head.

A hand? Fingers. Fingers tangled in her hair, grasping, pulling.

“Gotcha, girlie!”

The low voice barely registered. Was he speaking to someone else? 

A shift in her pain signaled her to her captor’s movement. He was preparing to swing now, opening up his defenses.

Blindly but determinedly, the fighter swung her weapon in a high arc over her head, not slowing even when her blade met resistance. 

A surprised cry turned to a choking gurgle.

The pressure released from her scalp.

All she could discern was her own pulse pounding in her ears. Her breath coming hard. Sweat and blood sliding along her skin. 

The final opponent had been eliminated. She was safe again. 

With one slow blink, the trance was broken.

Deafening applause struck her and she looked up to the raucous crowd of the arena. They were all on their feet, many with fists pumping in the air, yelling from the tops of their lungs. Cheering, stomping, screaming for more blood. Always more blood. 

She lowered her eyes to the man she had just felled. His face was cleanly split from ear to chin, jaw nearly severed, his blood pooling darkly in the sand beneath. He stared at her with wide eyes, pleading eyes, as he gasped and retched miserably, choking on his own blood, dying. She returned his stare blankly. She was almost disgusted; this was what the crowd was cheering for.

Her teal eyes caught movement to the side then, and she moved instantly, ready to take down this next threat. Yet she stopped, for it was only her reflection in a fallen shield. She frowned at her own blood-streaked face.

“My people,” A booming voice sounded out, lifting even over the wildness of the crowd. 

The fighter turned obediently to face the arena balcony and the king’s private box. A man of large stature encompassed the space. His intense dark eyes bore into hers until she looked down in submission.

“I give you your champion… Anna the Crimson.”


	2. A fire in her eyes

A pounding knock brought Anna out of her state of half consciousness. She lifted her eyelids and blinked several times, her sight clearing and focusing in on the plain ceiling above. She waited a moment, willing the intruder to leave her in peace, but another knock came, more insistent this time. With a heavy sigh, Anna extracted herself from the bed and went to the door, opening it several inches. A familiar face glared in at her.

“About time,” Flynn said. “His Majesty wishes to speak with us.”

“Of course.” She murmured. 

The redhead went to step out, but Flynn slapped his hand to the door.

“You’re going like that?” 

Anna looked up to him quizzically.

“There’s still blood on your face from yesterday’s spectacle,” He continued. “Did you not -“

“Runeard won’t notice.” She interrupted, and attempted to push past him.

Flynn let surprise take him and allowed her to exit her room. His eyes searched the hall for any other presence, and finding none, he reached for Anna’s arm. She turned on him with slight irritation.

“Anna, I don’t especially care for you, but I will still remind you. Would anyone else allow you to refer so blatantly to King Runeard? Mind your words.”

Anna’s eyes softened noticeably and she sighed in resignation. Still, she tore her arm from his grasp and began her way down the hallway. Flynn took a calming breath himself before following after.

…… 

Runeard looked up from his papers when Anna and Flynn entered his chambers. Immediately, his eyes went to the three streaks of dried, crusted blood along his champion’s cheek. A small and satisfied smirk began to cross his features that he covered with a large hand. 

“Good morning, Your Majesty.” Flynn said as he and Anna bowed deeply. “You wanted to see us?”

“Yes, I did.”

The king stood from his chair and paced around to the front of his desk, hands linked behind his back. He took a moment to observe the two. 

Anna stood ramrod straight, her head tilted forward with her copper bangs obscuring her eyes. She was a subordinate young woman, but she was full of so much hatred, she always had been, and was such an angry child, as well. He would always remember the night that she came to be in his care. One of his guardsmen had dragged in a little girl, only six or seven years old, who he had found stealing horse feed from the stables to eat. She was soaked to the bone from the fall rain, thin as a stick from hunger, but kicking and fighting her captor the whole way. Runeard recalled a fire in her eyes unlike any he had seen. And she had been vulnerable, a lump of malleable clay for his hands to play with, to stretch one way and push another, until she had been shaped more to his liking. 

So she grew up under the steeliness of his wing, resisting less and less and bending more and more to his authority. At only nine years old, Runeard had decided she needed to learn discipline and an outlet for her wildness, and had ordered his finest fighting men to train her in the ways of sword fighting. And ten years later, at the age of twenty and at the prime of her strength, Anna had become not only a master of the blade with nary an opponent she couldn’t match, but had reined in her emotions and was always cool and collected. The only way to know of the redhead’s inner fire was to see it behind her eyes, always raging and never to be extinguished, or so Runeard hoped. She only let loose in a fight, which he gifted her with often. She would kill any man or creature that stepped into the ring just from a single word from her king. Runeard was ensured of her unswerving loyalty.

Runeard cast his eyes over the man beside his protege. He was a handsome young man with dark shaggy hair and eyes to match, and tall and lean. He had a roguish aura about him. Flynn was a fine swordsman as well, and had even held his own against Anna - though just barely, Runeard reminded himself. He was confident, just shy of cocky, and unafraid to speak his mind. Like the king himself, Flynn was a womanizer and didn’t attempt to hide it; he had charmed many a woman into his bed, peasant and noble alike. In fact, he had recently been at the center of an incident involving the wife of a chancellor. It had taken several long days of negotiation and bargaining to resolve that issue. And unfortunately, Runeard was not sure if Flynn was or was not his son. He had yet to ask what Flynn truly knew of his origins. 

Runeard ran a thumb and forefinger over the thick hairs of his mustache as he began speaking.

“The Days of Games is upon us again, you may have heard. It seems the kingdom of Arendelle, of all places, is hosting the festivities this time around. Being my best fighting men, I’d like you both to accompany me. You will represent Dovoryn in the Games.”

“Sire,” Flynn glanced once to Anna. “Not to be overbold, but are - that is, do women often partake in the Games?”

Runeard watched as Anna simply glanced back at Flynn, no expression on her face but her eyes hard to read. The king shrugged his shoulders.

“Not generally, no. Not many women have competed, though it’s not against any regulation.” 

Runeard stepped down from the dais and went to Anna, placing a heavy hand on her shoulder. 

“But that’s why I called you my best fighting men. Anna will enter the Games under the guise of a male persona.”

At his words, they both looked quickly to their king. Flynn in sharp confusion, Anna in slight unease. Runeard lifted his hands with palms out.

“Do you doubt me? While in full armor, no one will be the wiser. It’s a matter of keeping your face covered. Meanwhile, when not competing, you will be free to galavant around Arendelle as just another of my party.”

Anna dropped her eyes from his then, back to her feet where she felt most comfortable. She sensed Flynn once again shuffling next to her.

“Yes, my king,” The redhead breathed. “As you wish.”

……

The young woman ran as quickly as her legs could take her, bare feet slapping against the wet ground beneath. Her hard, ragged breaths in her ears drowned out the natural noises of the woodlands. She didn’t care because she was currently preoccupied. She ran on, whipping through drenched foliage and squelching through thick mud, pushing for the tree line. 

She stopped quickly and threw her arms around a nearby trunk to steady herself and catch her breath. She looked out over the meadow, peering through the heavy morning mist for any signs of life, any signs that someone else was out here with her. When she was satisfied she was alone, the woman smiled shakily between pants. She stepped out slowly into the opening, the dewey grass tickling the bare skin of her ankles. Her fingertips grazed the tallest stalks, shimmying them and loosening the collected water droplets. 

With a sigh, the young woman again surveyed the thick mist around her. Tentatively, she lifted a hand up through the fine vapor. Then a quick snap of her wrist, and her arm surged forward, and suddenly, the mist had solidified into delicate particles of ice, glimmering softly in the dull light of the overcast sky. The woman watched as ice swirled slowly downwards to settle in her braid of platinum hair. 

She smiled.

……

“Elsa, you’re late.”

King Agnarr stood from his place at the dining table to reprimand his daughter. Elsa, however, merely brushed a stray lock of hair from her eyes and took her own seat next to her brother. Agnarr bumped his fist on the table hard enough to rattle the dishes and cause the other occupants to jump. His queen, Iduna, went to place a calming hand on his arm, but the man shook it off.

“Where have you been this time? You’re drenched.” 

The blonde looked down, unwilling to answer her father. From the corner of her vision, she saw her brother staring at her with distress deep in his eyes.

“I’m tired of this, Elsa. Answer me.” Agnarr’s voice rose slightly. 

When Elsa still remained silent, the king pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. He attempted to keep his ire in check when next he spoke.

“You cannot keep disappearing. The Days of Games is less than a month away, and you are now twenty-four years of age, no longer a child. This is a suitable opportunity for you to begin stepping into your role as future queen.”

“I don’t want this.” Elsa mumbled.

“We’ve spoken about this. You are my oldest heir, I have been preparing you for this mantle since you were very young. This is not something you can simply choose to take or cast aside. Elsa, you are perfect for this -“

“If you only knew how perfect I really am,” Elsa stood then, glaring down her father. “You don’t know _anything_ about me, who I am. And I….” 

The snowy blonde trailed off, too afraid to voice her next words. She looked between the rest of her family members before turning on her heel and leaving the dining hall at a quick pace. 

“Elsa! Stop!” Agnarr called after her, to no avail. 

He sat down heavily then, a sigh exploding from his lungs. Iduna wrapped his fingers in hers, which he then squeezed lovingly. 

“I don’t understand. If she wants me to really know her… why won’t she open up to me?”  
Elsa’s brother stood from his own chair, twisting his body in the direction she had gone. 

“I’ll speak with her. We can settle this, Father.”

Agnarr bowed his head. “Thank you, Hans.”

……

“Elsa, are you in here?”

Elsa considered hiding herself farther in the massive bookshelves and ignoring Hans. But her poor brother had done nothing to hurt her, and she would feel guilty brushing him off out of anger. 

“Yes, I’m here.” She called softly.

She came around the shelves into view, at which Hans smiled kindly. She couldn’t help but smile back. Her younger brother had become her personal knight in shining armor since coming of age. An eight year age difference between them had been difficult for Elsa to consider, and often, when they were smaller children, it made for a rocky bond between them. Elsa would be too old to enjoy things Hans would enjoy, while Hans would be too young and inexperienced to partake in most of his sister’s hobbies. Though over time, as Hans matured, both in body and mind, he figured he could support his sister in her queenly studies. He could see how she struggled with her destiny, and he knew why - the only one to know why. 

Elsa had control of magic. Elemental magic.

A taboo subject in Arendelle, in fact, in most of the known world. Magic was seen as a thing left for the lowliest, vilest of creatures. Witches, sorcerers, demons. Whether one was born with magic or cursed, it mattered not. One caught practicing such arts would be branded, exiled, or put to death. Hans would not let such a fate befall his sister. He would devote his life to protecting her and her secret, even if that meant forfeiting it. 

“You’ve upset Father again.” Hans stated plainly.

Elsa sat on the plush divan, patting the space next to her for him to join her. When he did, the blonde saw the slight trembling of her brother’s shoulders. She sighed; it was happening again. Hans had been a fairly sickly child, and now was a weak boy even at sixteen. He suffered from a speech delay as a toddler, not beginning to speak until he was over three years old. He was often overtaken by fits of shaking and chills, and repeatedly found himself under the care of the castle physician. Elsa couldn’t warm him now, she was too cold herself.

“I know,” Elsa pinched along her brother’s sideburns, the only place the poor boy could grow any facial hair. “But he has upset me, also.”

Hans rolled his eyes, though good-naturedly. He swatted her hand away from his face.

“Just give me a couple of more years, and then I can take you away. Anywhere that you wanna go.” 

“Hans, I can’t let you do that.” Elsa laughed quietly, sadly. “We both know that if I leave… no, _when_ I leave, that you’ll have to take the throne. I know that’s what you want.”

The brunet looked at her, ready to deny her words, but he knew she spoke truthfully. He would like to ascend to the throne one day, following in the footsteps of his father and reigning over Arendelle as king in a peaceful and prosperous era. Admittedly, he was jealous of his sister, more so of her place as the eldest and rightful heir than Elsa herself. 

“I do want that. …But you will really leave your whole life behind so easily? Where will you go? How will you make it out there? I don’t want you doing it all on your own, sister.” 

Elsa clasped his hands in between her own, feeling him tremble strongly at the cold but he refused to let go. 

“I have the beginning of a plan in the works. I won’t run out on you tomorrow, dear brother, so don’t worry for me. I do plan to enjoy the Games one last time.”

Hans brightened considerably. He clenched back at her hands.

“That’s good to hear.” 

Then the boy’s mood dropped back to a somber one. 

“Listen, just promise me something. Appeal to Father’s wishes, just for the time being. I hate this conflict between you both, it… it hurts me. I believe it hurts Mother, too.”

Elsa nodded strongly. 

“I promise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote about a quarter of this story under an entire different fandom, but decided I like it much better as Elsanna. I also originally had the roles reversed, Elsa as the swordswoman, Anna the princess, but c'mon, dark, brooding Anna is fun. Also to note, Runeard is not related to Anna, Elsa, or Agnarr in this story. He's just a mean old man. Thanks for reading!


	3. Stripping bare my very soul

Anna soaked in her surroundings in silent awe. She had become so attuned to the perpetual dinginess of Dovoryn, that to see another kingdom so opposite from her own was initially mind-blowing. The architecture, the people, even the very air was a far cry from her homeland. Her fingers tightly gripped the hilt of the short sword strapped to the back of her hips, a tactic for soothing her suddenly rampant anxiety. 

She jumped when a hand clamped down on her shoulder.

“Are you alright there, Crimson?” It was Flynn, with his brown eyes shining in the sunlight. 

“I’ve never seen such a bright place. It… unsettles me, I suppose.”

“Oh, that’s right. You’ve never left Dovoryn. Well, my dear, don’t worry, because Yours Truly has made port in Arendelle a number of times.” 

The man began his way jauntily down the wharf, urging Anna to follow. She made sure her cape covered the weapon at her back before stepping off of the boarding plank. It wasn’t particularly uncommon for a woman to be armed, but Anna didn’t want to risk drawing any attention to herself.

“There are a number of fine pubs around the city. Perhaps we could share a pint or two if given leave. Oh, wait,” Flynn turned to look at his companion, walking backwards and cracking a smile. “You’re much too serious for any fun.”

Anna showed no reaction at his teasing, and so prompted him to turn back around with a dismissive shrug.

“Ah, but of course, I’m leaving out the best part! Arendelle is brimming with all the women you could ever hope to bed.”

At that, Flynn tossed a flirtatious grin and wink at two women who were disembarking from their own ship. They giggled to themselves, one even giving Anna a playful smile of her own. The fighter looked away quickly, feeling her cheeks begin to heat. She wasn’t accustomed to _that_ sort of attention. She fought off the instinctual urge to cover her face in embarrassment. She heard another round of giggles drifting after her and opted to quicken her step, matching that of Flynn.

“Is the female figure all you ever think of?” She asked, lifting a fine eyebrow.

Flynn laughed heartily and knocked Anna’s arm with his own. “What else is there?”

The redhead allowed a little wry smile to cross her features as she nudged him back. They were nearing the end of the wharf now, where Runeard was addressing a small regiment of his royal guard. 

“What’s this? Is the mighty Crimson Warrior of Dovoryn finally loosening up a bit?” 

Flynn managed to squeeze in one last teasing jab before they came within earshot of their king. Anna, however, had already returned to her stoic self and bowed deeply before Runeard, her bent knee nearly touching the ground. Flynn noticed that she did not rise until the man had acknowledged their presence.

“You two are looking well.” Runeard greeted. “I’m giving you leave of the city for the day, though I expect to see you at this evening’s introductory festivities. Flynn, boy, I trust there will be no _incidents_ with you this time?”

Runeard fought back a smile, which screwed his face up into a grimace. Flynn laughed softly and bowed his head.

“Of course, sire. I will be on my best behavior. I think Anna will keep me in line, anyhow.”

The king turned to his protege at mention of her, seeing that she had not yet raised her eyes to him. Inwardly, he beamed with pride at her subservience. He could still see her as that piece of clay which his hand molded down further and further into an image of obedience.

“Oh, Your Majesty, I have an question about the festivities tonight. In regards to Anna’s… male persona…?”

Anna kept silent as Flynn inquired about her. She wasn’t one for details; when her king spoke, she would act.

“Leave that for the Games. Come as you are tonight. And Anna?”

She met his strong gaze then, awaiting a command.

“No dried blood streaks tonight, yes?”

She bowed low again, one arm sweeping her cape out of the way.

“Yes, my king.”

With his final words spoken, Runeard mounted his waiting horse and started for the castle of Arendelle, his regiment following closely. Anna didn’t raise from her bow until the man was well away. She caught Flynn looking at her closely, a tint of trouble in his eyes, and she turned fully towards him, almost challenging him. She expected him to voice some inane question or another, as was his custom. But instead he shrugged it off and raised his eyes to scan the edge of the city. He folded his arms.

“It sounds like we have several hours to spend. You up for that pint? Maybe we’ll see how far the Crimson Warrior can really come out of her shell.”

Anna smirked, crossing her own arms over her chest. She wasn’t fond of the name the Dovorian people had dubbed her with, and Flynn knew it, using it to endlessly annoy her. 

“Yeah, I suppose we will.”

……

Anna followed Flynn closely as they traversed the town square. Her companion was talking on and on about various locations in the city that had proved to be interesting, but the fighter wasn’t listening, not truly. She was too preoccupied taking in each new sight Arendelle had to offer. Here merchants lined the square in open booths happily selling their wares, instead of cowering behind the iron bars of a recommissioned prison wagon to protect themselves from the inevitable robbers that would strike. Here the sun shone down warmly on all creatures, instead of hiding away in an overcast sky that drenched the kingdom in rain for three-fourths of the year. Here people had a smile and word of greeting to offer anyone that passed by, instead of a scowl and downcast eyes. The redhead was not used to seeing so many smiling faces, and felt awkward being unable to return any gestures in earnest. It was very different indeed.

As Anna turned her head to scan along the other side of the marketplace, her eyes caught on one thing. Her mind seemed to stop, and she stumbled over her own boots. 

A girl - no, a young woman. Speaking with a man at a stall. All radiant smiles, and porcelain skin, and shining platinum hair. 

And her eyes. 

A deep, mesmerizing blue. 

Like the sapphires in the caves in the darkest reaches of Dovoryn, yet even better, brighter. 

Anna had a sudden urge to swallow, for a lump had formed in her throat. She squeezed her sword hilt, the leather of her glove stretching and creaking from the force.

Then, as if sensing the ferocity of Anna’s gaze, the blonde looked up and right back at her. Anna’s heart jumped wildly. Even if she had wanted to, she was sure she could not have torn her eyes away from the living goddess before her. This was something the fighter had not felt before, and it was confusing, terrifying… exhilarating?

Flynn stepped into her view, raising something to her face. Anna blinked quickly several times, coming back to herself, and focusing in on the item she was being offered. 

“Sweetbread,” Her companion said, his mouth already brimming with bread of his own. 

“Oh.” She said stupidly, but took the treat anyway. 

Flynn said something else muffled by his food before patting her shoulder and leaving again to inspect something else that had caught his eye. Anna immediately looked back to the stall, but the woman was gone. She swept the crowd a number of times, even taking several wandering steps side to side. But to no avail. She didn’t spot the blonde again.

“Crimson, are you alright?” 

Flynn’s raspy voice broke her concentration. She remained quiet, still scanning the crowd slowly. She felt it as the man stepped up next to her.

“Did you hear me?”

Anna lowered her eyes thoughtfully to the sweetbread she held. That woman…. The redhead hadn’t been consumed by such emotion for years. She could always keep herself in check, she had been trained to do that very thing. It wasn’t as if the snowy blonde had been the first lady to catch Anna’s eye, either. She wasn’t a stranger in the ways of a woman’s body. In fact, her handful of partners and their various titles could very well make Flynn green with envy.

“Anna?”

She finally broke from her reverie and met Flynn’s eyes, definitely troubled now. He searched her face for any sign of distress, but he found her as unreadable as ever. He frowned and looked over the crowd, trying to spot what had the stoic warrior so distracted. 

“What is it?” He asked.

Anna shook her head, suddenly nonchalant. “Nothing.”

The brunet narrowed his eyes suspiciously. It was unlike her to be distracted by anything, ever. She had eyes and ears only for King Runeard, and almost a sole focus on fighting. Perhaps she had spotted a likely opponent? A looming threat? That couldn’t be it, Anna was not one to go out and pick a fight, she kept herself grounded until Runeard granted permission. Flynn found this to be an intriguing mystery, and one he would watch closely. 

“Then I… will take your word for it.” He said slowly. 

Anna didn’t reply, just took a tentative bite from the sweetbread and gave him an expectant look. 

“Right. How about a drink now?”

Flynn didn’t wait to see if his companion followed him as he started for the nearby corner pub, The White Knight. He had been before and recalled they served an enticing mug of mead with an exotic flavor. With how little he did know about Anna, at least he knew she was always accepting of a bit of honey wine.

……

“Cousin! Cousin, over here!”

Elsa turned from her work at the call of the familiar, excited voice. She laid eyes on a petite brunette happily racing toward her, short hair fluttering in the wind. Elsa gasped in delighted surprise and hurried to meet the girl halfway. She didn’t spot her father’s disapproving look.

“Rapunzel, you’re here!” 

The cousins nearly leapt into one another’s arms, squeezing each other affectionately. They both attempted to chatter excitedly, trying to speak over each other, until they broke into laughter. Then Elsa’s attention was drawn abruptly from Rapunzel at the sight of the woman standing aside respectfully. She was dressed in breeches and wore a sword around her back. The snowy blonde raised an eyebrow quizzically.

“Um, who’s this?” She glanced at her cousin. 

“Huh? Oh,” Rapunzel giggled and gestured toward the woman. “My lady-in-waiting, Cassandra.”

“Princess.” Cassandra bowed.

Elsa frowned at Rapunzel, skeptical. The woman was armed with a sword. She was no simple lady-in-waiting.

“Okay, she’s also my personal guard. My father insisted.” The brunette whispered.

Elsa turned herself and her cousin away so as not to let Cassandra overhear their conversation. 

“But… she’s a woman…?” 

“She’s the daughter of the guard captain. She has trained for years, she knows what she’s doing.”

“That’s… Rapunzel, I have to tell you -“

Elsa was interrupted by Agnarr stepping out from behind his desk to offer his own greetings and hug to the brunette. 

“Uncle, wonderful to see you. My mother should be along shortly, I believe she’s been caught up speaking to some dignitary or another.”

Elsa sidled quietly around to an angle where her father could not see her and gestured smally to Rapunzel. When she saw green eyes focus on her, she jerked a thumb towards the entryway and raised her eyebrows. Her cousin understood and interrupted herself.

“And, now, I will… go and-and fetch my mother. She’s been waiting to see you, Uncle, and I wouldn’t want her to waste the day away on anyone else.” 

Rapunzel began shuffling backwards, hands elaborating her words awkwardly.

“Yes, and I will accompany her,” Elsa offered. “I’d like to greet Aunt Arianna, too.”

The two linked arms and as quickly as they properly could, made way for the door. Agnarr frowned.

“Elsa -“

“No, I insist! Carry on without me. I’ll see you this evening, Father!” Elsa called.

Before the king could get another word in, the women were out the door and down the hall, Cassandra on their heels. Rapunzel laughed breathlessly, recalling similar shenanigans she and her cousin had gotten up to as children. Elsa noticed and flashed her a cheeky smile. 

After they had put a fair distance between themselves and the study, the blonde felt comfortable enough to slow the pace to a leisurely walk. Rapunzel flipped around in front of her and grabbed Elsa’s shoulders.

“What is it that’s got you into such a state that we had to run out on your father?” She questioned, a wondering smile on her lips. 

Elsa was unsure how to answer. She drew her bottom lip between her teeth and chewed thoughtfully. How to voice the thoughts tumbling around in her head? Rapunzel leaned in closely, peering at the other woman dubiously. 

“There seems to be something quite different about you.” 

The brunette squinted her eyes nearly shut as she searched her cousin’s face. Then, with blinding speed, she jumped back and snapped loudly. 

“Yes, that’s it! You have much more color to you than usual,” She put a finger to her lips. “Which means your blood has been running,” A slow, knowing smile overtook her. “Which means you, my lovely cousin, have found something - or, should I say, _someone_ who interests you.”

Elsa pursed her lips weakly as she felt a blush creep along her cheeks. She wanted to confide in Rapunzel, but looked over her shoulder warily to Cassandra. She met the princess’s eyes with a blank, uninterested expression. 

“My ears are ever deaf to words not meant for me, my lady.” She deadpanned.

Elsa supposed that meant that her secret would be safe. She faced her cousin again, who was nearly bouncing on her heels with excitement. Rapunzel was a hopeless romantic, almost naively so, and couldn’t resist indulging in even the most mundane details of her friends’ love lives. 

“I… well, I….” Elsa began, tripping over her words.

“Tell me already!” 

“I saw… someone in the town square today.”

Rapunzel waited for Elsa to continue, to elaborate, to offer her something a little more critical, but she remained quiet.

“And this person is…?” She prompted.

“Uh, well… she was -“

“Wait, a girl?!” 

Rapunzel screeched loudly, even making Cassandra, who had moved down the hall out of earshot, pull her head back with a grimace. Elsa looked around quickly to ensure no one else’s attention had been drawn and covered her cousin’s mouth with a cool hand. 

“Shh! Why does that grab your interest so?!” She whispered loudly.

Rapunzel took a moment to collect herself. She continued at a considerably lower volume, but no less ecstatic. 

“I’ve been waiting for this moment since you first confided in me about….” She glanced briefly to Cassandra before whispering. “Well, you know. Tell me about her! What is her name?”

“I-I don’t know. We didn’t speak.” The blonde admitted sheepishly.

Rapunzel squinted again, searching her mind for a decent way to reply to that. Elsa took the woman’s silence as a push for her to continue.

“I _did_ say that I saw her, not met her.”

Rapunzel wanted to grab Elsa and shake her, but just barely resisted the desire. 

“Alright, next best thing,” She huffed. “What did she look like?”

Elsa smiled faintly as she recalled. 

“She was… wondrous. She was like your lady, dressed akin to a guardsman, which is why I asked - anyway,” She shook her head. “She had red hair. Almost like… like the red sands along the northern coast.” Her eyes lit up as she made the connection. “Though she had this sadness around her. In her eyes I could see pain… and anger… and hate. Her stare was so intense. It was as if she was peering into my soul, stripping bare every secret I hold. I felt like she lit a fire in my heart, and I had to take the first opportunity offered to look away before she burnt me to ash.”

Elsa seemed to realize what she was saying and looked at Rapunzel in wide-eyed embarrassment. Her cousin had the goofiest of grins plastered on her face. 

“Oh, Elsa. I feel like _I’m_ now the one peering into your soul, stripping it bare. Oh Gods, do you have it bad. Even I long to see her intense stare.”

The blonde covered her face in unease at Rapunzel’s words. The brunette peeled her fingers away, hoping to hear more.

“Surely she’s not from Arendelle? A foreigner, here for the Games?”

“Maybe? Rapunzel, there’s no chance I’ll see her again -“

“Stop that,” Rapunzel chastised her, slapping her hand to Elsa’s lips to quiet her. “My mother has told me to never say never. You have a connection with her. She can peer into your soul!”

Elsa rolled her eyes. She regretted her choice of words; Rapunzel was not going to let her live that down.

“We’ll find her, together. I promise you. All I wish for you is happiness, Elsa.” She grasped the other’s fingers. “If we don’t find her by the end of the Days of Games, I’ll… I’ll kiss Cassandra.”

Elsa laughed loudly at Rapunzel’s challenge. She chanced a glance back to the guard, who was waiting patiently with arms crossed, slight annoyance marring her brow.

“Oh, cousin, what would I do without you?” 

The two embraced in another bone-crushing hug. Rapunzel tenderly cupped the blonde’s cheek.

“You would wallow in self-doubt and die miserably, of course.” 

……

The evening seemed to approach faster than anticipated, and with it, the Days of Games’ grand feast and announcement of guests. More than a few sighed in relief when learning the introduction of competitors would be held the following morning. The official kickoff of the Games would begin immediately after. 

Anna endeavored to breathe easier as she and Flynn traversed the castle grounds. This would be her first time attending any type of royal engagement and she wondered if she was maybe underdressed, although her king had told her to come as she was. Discreetly, she looked over Flynn and his state of dress. His dark locks were pushed back from his face, and tumbled down the back of his neck stylishly. Anna was sure she hadn’t brushed her own hair in days, and quickly combed her fingers through it, detangling knots and capturing stray hairs before retying her low ponytail. His outfit was identical to her own; that is, black breeches tucked into high boots, a long dark tunic covered by a sleeveless slate grey leather jerkin, and a knee-length cape around their shoulders. The typical garb of Dovoryn guardsmen, minus any armor. She noticed his boots had been recently polished. Her own were scuffed and dirty. His tunic and breeches looked to be freshly pressed. She had slept on the ship in her own outfit, and it was now wrinkled beyond repair. 

She sighed in resignation. What could she do now but wear what she had and hope she wouldn’t be an embarrassment to her king? 

Her head swam pleasurably but not dangerously from the mead she had consumed. She did enjoy the stuff, but it had been the strongest mead she had ever tasted. Flynn had easily downed three pints without batting an eye, but then again, he was known to be able to hold his liquor. 

“Flynn, my lord! Anna, my lady!” 

They looked up at the call. A young man was waving for their attention. Anna recognized him as one of Runeard’s more trusted guardsmen. He was dressed as they were, though he also sported shining vambraces and pauldrons, and a cap sat upon his head. She made note that his sword was clumsily secured to his hip. 

“His Majesty sent me to fetch you. Come, the feast is just about to begin. Everyone is still gathering.”

Anna was glad to know that they were not as late as she had believed. She had urged Flynn to finish his drinks and he had responded in as laidback a way as always. It had finally come to a point where she had slapped the drink from his hand and dragged him from the pub by his collar. 

“You see, I told you there was no need for worry.” He drawled, much to her annoyance. “I could go for some ale right about now.”

“You just had mead.” She stated, bewildered.

He shrugged in her direction just as they entered the dining hall. The redhead blinked in surprise at the amount of people suddenly accosting her vision. Several dozen royals, nobles, and their parties sat around the three long tables occupying the expanse of space. A smaller table sat at the end of the hall, reserved for Arendelle’s royal family. Now Anna felt especially self-conscious of her appearance, more in fear of Runeard’s reputation than her own. 

They followed the guardsman to the farthest table, where their king sat comfortably among his flock of courtesans. When he caught sight of them, he lifted an open hand to invite them to sit at the empty chairs across from him. 

“Quite a remarkable gathering, is it not?” He asked after they were seated.

“I-I feel a bit underdressed, sire.” Anna said.

“Think nothing of it. I’ve noticed some of these Arendellean men are no better.” Runeard smirked. “Besides, it’s not your appearance I’m concerned with, but your performance in the Games. I have everything arranged for your… disguise. When you step onto the field, no one will be the wiser.”

“I won’t fail you, my king.” 

Her eyes flashed fiercely, and Runeard nodded in approval. Anna chose to ignore Flynn’s ever-troubled eyes beside her.

The sharp call of an Arendelle guardsman turned all heads to the front of the hall, where the king, Agnarr, was standing from his chair with a welcoming smile. He raised his arms in a greeting.

“Welcome, one and all. Myself and all the people of Arendelle are extremely honored to be hosting this year’s Days of Games. My family has worked hard to prepare our kingdom for your coming.”

The fighter watched instinctively as Agnarr swept his hands to his sides to indicate his family members seated alongside him. Anna did a double-take and froze at the sight of snowy blonde hair and ivory skin near the end of the table. The rest of the king’s speech faded to a dull buzzing at the back of her mind as her heartbeat pounded in her ears. Time felt as if it had slowed to a faltering crawl. 

Flynn both felt and saw Anna go rigid beside him and raised his eyes to scan the room for the threat she must have seen. He saw nothing but finely-attired people and sensed nothing amiss. He leaned close to whisper into the redhead’s ear.

“What troubles you? I see nothing.”

Anna shook her head. There was nothing to see. Nothing that pertained to Flynn, anyway.

The woman from the square, the delicate blonde that had ripped Anna’s breath from her chest like a blade across the gut, was _here_. 

And she was the princess of Arendelle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a longer chapter for your enjoyment. Maybe even to sell you a bit more on this story. Thanks for reading!


	4. Then she remembered

Anna managed to avoid being seen by the princess during the remainder of the feast by sheer luck, she believed. She had huddled closer to Flynn’s side and folded in on herself to attempt to disappear behind the man’s larger stature. It was obvious that her companion knew something was not right, as his eyes roamed the dining hall intermittently. The moment the castle servants came to clear away the final course, Anna turned to Runeard and all but begged for his permission to step out for a moment to clear her head. The mustached man appraised her with an odd look before speaking.

“Alright,” He said slowly. “Be quick about it. You need to be here when introductions are made. I’d like you to assess potential competition.”

“Yes, of course, sire.”

She stood and bowed quickly, not as deeply and respectfully as she usually would, in a hurry to exit the crowded hall and regain her senses. With a sharp flap of her cape, she turned on her heel and made haste for the doorway. Runeard’s eyes followed her trail until she was lost to sight. 

“That was rather,” He choose his word carefully. “Odd of her, was it not?”

Flynn scratched the back of his neck. “Well, sire, uh….”

“Do you know something I don’t, Flynn?”

“Oh, no, Your Majesty. I believe she’s just anxious. This is her first outing away from home.” 

Flynn frowned. Why had he felt the need to cover for her? He himself had no idea as to what was really causing her strange behavior. The way she had attempted to make herself appear as small as she could during dinner told him that she was avoiding being seen by someone. Who could that possibly be? The two had spent every moment of their time in Arendelle together so far. She had had no interactions with anyone, except…. 

He raised his eyes to again peer at every face he could catch. She had definitely seen something that afternoon in the town square. Someone in this room bothered her… threatened her… Flynn wasn’t sure _what_ he would call it. A shudder ran down his spine. If Anna the Crimson Warrior of Dovoryn was disturbed, then he had good reason to be, as well.

……

Rapunzel was hurrying down the hallway in a stiff-legged walk, mumbling to herself through clenched teeth. Her hands were balled into fists at her side. Cassandra followed behind, making sure to keep a good distance from the fuming brunette. 

“I can’t believe we missed the feast! You’re supposed to have the day’s schedule in order!” 

Cassandra went to reply, but was whirled upon by Rapunzel, who pointed an accusing finger in her face.

“You know how much I like food, Cass!” 

With an exasperated huff of, “Gods!!” she turned and continued on her way, feet stomping now added to the mix. When she went to round the corner, her torso connected roughly with a dark figure, expelling the air from her lungs. Because she had been moving at such a quick pace, she was thrown off balance and began to fall backwards. She braced for an impact. A gloved hand cinched around her forearm, easily catching and steadying her. 

“My lady, I’m so sorry! Forgive me!”

Rapunzel blew her bangs from her eyes and looked up, preparing to give this clumsy oaf a few choice words. Those words, however, caught in her throat, coming out as a strangled squeal, when she saw her accidental assailant. Her eyes flashed quickly over the woman.

Red hair. Exactly like the sands of the northern coast.

The dress of a guard. Things were matching up.

She met the teal eyes before her. Behind the present worry, she could see it. The intensity that her cousin had spoke of. After only a moment, she felt compelled to look away. Elsa had not been bluffing.

“How dare you disrespect the princess like this?”

Cassandra was stepping forward in an offensive pose. Rapunzel saw the redhead begin to bristle herself and knew she had to step between them. She put a hand across Cassandra’s chest to hold her in place, not that she could if the woman truly wanted to go through with an assault. 

“Hey, no, everything is fine. I’m fine. There’s no need for this.”

Cassandra reluctantly settled back, but kept a wary eye on the stranger. After waiting several seconds to ensure her guard wasn’t going to make a move, Rapunzel faced the redhead again. 

“And you are…?” She questioned.

She jumped slightly in surprise as the woman swiftly bent at the waist in a bow, her copper ponytail falling forward over her shoulder. 

“Your Highness, forgive me, I forget myself.” She came out of her bow. “My name is Anna.” 

“Rapunzel, of Corona.” 

The brunette offered a hand, which Anna took, placing a chaste kiss atop her knuckles. Rapunzel blushed despite herself. Though inwardly she smiled; she couldn’t wait to tell Elsa that _she_ had received a kiss from her special interest. 

“Well, um, we had best get to the hall before we miss introductions, as well.” She turned an accusing glare on Cassandra, who shrugged apologetically. “Will we see you there, Anna?”

“Yeah - I mean, yes, of course, Your Highness. I was just taking a moment to myself.”

Rapunzel tried to hide her giddiness, though she was sure she failed miserably. With a final nod to Anna, she turned and speedily headed towards the dining hall, nearly dragging Cassandra along with her. She stole another glance over her shoulder at Anna, but the redhead was looking down at her feet, and Rapunzel could see the sadness that Elsa had mentioned. 

When she entered the large room, Rapunzel skipped over her parents’ seats and the empty chair awaiting her and continued to the small front table and didn’t stop until she was dropping down into Elsa’s seat, scooching her cousin’s hips until she could fit, too. The blonde didn’t protest but stared at her in confusion, especially at the knowing smile adorning her lips. 

“Oh, cousin, have I got some news for _you_.”

……

Later that evening, Flynn walked along the castle grounds with Anna. They were to inspect the stables to ensure that Runeard’s horses were being bedded down properly. The king wasn’t particular about the treatment of his people, but was adamant about the treatment of his horses. Flynn marveled at how the man obviously had his priorities in check. The fighter hadn’t spoken another word since returning from her break during the feast. She was normally quiet, but Flynn was almost worried for her. Something was troubling her, though he was certain it had nothing to do with Runeard’s life being in danger. If so, the woman would have gone straight to her king with the news. No, this was something personal for the warrior. Maybe even something intimate. And he knew her well enough that she wouldn’t indulge any information to him.

The brunet was in such deep contemplation that he didn’t notice Anna had come to a halt until he was a good distance from her. He shot a questioning look back at her. They were still in the gardens, no where near the stables. He came back to her and began to feel a sudden irritation at her behavior. She was always compliant, never questioned Runeard’s commands, and most certainly didn’t stop before reaching a destination. Flynn wanted to reprimand her, and began to do so when he noticed her posture. She was rigid again, shifting her weight from side to side, one hand behind her back probably gripping that damn sword hilt again. She was watching something or someone in the corner of the gardens. Flynn looked around quickly, his hand reaching to his own sword. 

There was nothing. A handful of guests mingling, enjoying the cool breeze and the soft moonlight of an Arendellian night. He glanced back down to Anna, to pinpoint exactly where she was looking and finally see for himself what had her so entranced. He slowly turned his head to the farthest corner of the gardens. 

There, that must be it.

His eyes fell upon a young woman, with hair so blonde he would almost call it white. She was dressed as royalty - she _was_ royalty, if the tiny sparkling tiara upon her head and regal silk gown were anything to go by. Her pale skin seemed to glow in the light of the moon. She really was quite lovely. 

This woman was the reason behind Anna’s behavior? She was no threat. She was slight, and soft, and looked as if she hadn’t done a hard day’s work in her life. She was beautiful, sure, but she was innocent, Flynn could spot an ill-willed female from miles away. There was no way Anna could be threatened by…. 

Flynn froze. Realization had struck.

“Really, Crimson?” He voiced loud enough to knock Anna’s senses back. “ _This_ is the reason you have been especially brooding all afternoon?”

He pointed at the blonde.

“Because you’re in _puppy love_?”

The redhead snapped her eyes to his. She was blushing, so he knew his accusation to be true. He wanted to be angry with her for causing such a stir within himself. But it faded quickly at the tinge of fear he saw in her. He reached for her shoulder to give it a comforting squeeze.

“Forgive my outburst. You had me concerned, that’s all.”

He circled around to her back, placing his other hand on her other shoulder.

“You should talk to her.”

That finally prompted Anna to speak. “What? No, I-I can’t. She’s the princess of Arendelle and I’m -“

“And you are no peasant,” Flynn interrupted, giving her a light push. “You are the finest fighter in Dovoryn. You are unofficially the adopted daughter of the king himself.” He gave her another push and lowered his voice. “You _are_ worthy of her time, Anna.”

With one final push, Anna stumbled forward but didn’t stop walking. She had already spoken to one princess that evening without making a _complete_ fool of herself, surely she could do it again.

……

“Looks like you have an admirer coming this way!”

Rapunzel slapped Elsa’s shoulder harder than intended in her excitement. The blonde reeled momentarily at the force. She shot a glare at her cousin, but then the words actually registered. Rapunzel could only be referring to one person. She looked to her right and immediately her pulse spiked. The redheaded object of her fascination was indeed coming toward her. Her eyes were downcast and she seemed rather unsure, but her strides were strong and purposeful.

“Go meet her!” Rapunzel whispered.

It was all the pushing Elsa required. She shuffled forward for a few hesitant steps, and then broke into a confident walk of her own. She stopped several feet from her - _Anna_ , Rapunzel had said her name was Anna - and waited for her to notice. Anna blinked several times at the feet that had come into her view before looking up.

“Oh.” She breathed.

The fighter hadn’t been prepared for just how fetching the blonde would look up close. She was wonderful from afar, but here, just an arm’s length in front of her, Anna could see all her tiny details. A smattering of near invisible freckles across her nose. The fullness of her lashes. 

“Hi.” 

What an alluring voice.

Anna blinked again. She couldn’t stop herself. An alarmingly goofy grin overtook her face, unlike any grin she had made. The blonde’s eyes dropped to it and a shy smile spread across her own features. Moments went by before Anna finally realized she had not replied. She dropped into a respectful bow.

“Your Highness. I hope it’s no trouble that I approached you unannounced,” She stood again, fighting the urge within herself to turn around and run away.

“No, of course not. I don’t mind.” She smiled again. “You know who I am?”

“The princess of Arendelle. …Though I… I don’t… I’m not sure of your name…?”

She felt stupid. Approaching someone so brazenly and not even knowing their name? She should stop now, while she still had a little dignity, and knock Flynn over his head for -

“Elsa.”

“...Elsa.” She repeated, once again slipping into a dumb grin. 

She blinked after a moment.

“Gods! Sorry! I’m Anna.”

Elsa tried to stifle a giggle behind her hand. Anna’s eyes dropped to said hand and she offered her own.

“May I?” 

As Elsa realized what she was asking, a blush creeped across her cheeks. Silently, she extended her fingers to Anna’s waiting hand. The redhead felt a coldness even through her gloves and flashed her eyes up to meet Elsa’s, almost questioning it. But it seeped into her, a coolness to ease the never-ending inferno that raged inside herself. As she grazed her lips across the elegant fingers of the princess, Anna felt oddly calm. Her emotions were still, her mind was clear, there was no wrathful beast in her heart fighting to break its chains for the first time in… forever. Elsa looked back at her strangely. Did she feel it too?

Anna released her hand after her kiss, but kept her eyes locked on Elsa’s. They were both lost for words at the strangeness of their physical connection. Finally, finding her strength again, Elsa stepped back.

“I have to go. My father is expecting me. I’m sorry.”

Anna blurted out the first thing to come to mind, despite her inner voice’s protests.

“Will I see you again?”

The snowy blonde’s face softened in a pleased smile. She lifted her hand to touch Anna’s cheek, fingers curling along her jaw, as her eyes trailed over her face, seeming to memorize every detail. 

“Yes.”

Then she was gone. Out of the gardens, back in the castle, leaving a light scent of mint on the breeze. Anna felt rooted to the spot. Her skin burned pleasantly where Elsa’s fingers had touched. Her emotions had begun swirling again, and she couldn’t make sense of what exactly she was feeling. It was odd, but not uncomfortable, not unwelcome. She could vaguely recognize it, from a time in her early childhood, before her mother had died, before she had been taken in by Runeard. 

Then she remembered. It was happiness.

Someone stepped up beside her. She recognized the footsteps as belonging to Flynn. He was chuckling lowly.

“I have never seen that side of you. The Crimson I know is dark, and closed off, and, might I say, cold. What is it about her that can turn you into a weak-kneed little girl?”

“I feel this connection with her. Something unusual. I thought it was just… something physical? Her beauty? But it can’t be.” Anna looked down at the hand that had touched Elsa’s. “She awakened something within me that I think… has been waiting.”

Flynn didn’t try to hide the skeptical look he wore. He felt awkward having Anna open up to him like this. He patted her arm.

“Okay, if you say so. Now let’s go check on the horses before you get too sappy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is a little shorter again. It was tricky finding a nice place to end it. The drama and darkness of this story will be coming soon. Just had to get these love struck dorks' meeting out of the way. Thanks for reading!


	5. They do not tolerate animals

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one has some violence, just in case that isn't your thing.

Runeard watched over his champion with an approving eye. Flynn was having a final check over the redhead’s munition armor, ensuring everything was snugly secured. The iron was pitted and scratched, a far cry from the shining set it had once been years ago when he had first bestowed it upon Anna. It was a testament to the many battles she had fought and won. Runeard’s eyes were drawn to the lines of scarlet paint adorning her pauldrons and tassets. Flynn had been adamant about adding them when the Dovoryn people had begun to call her the Crimson Warrior, which Runeard attributed to the violent amounts of blood the woman spilled in a fight. The king put up a hand to stop Flynn before he could slap shut the visor of her helmet. 

“Anna, when you step out there, I need you to stay grounded. These are not duels to the death, remember. They are just games.”

Anna bowed her head. “I remember, sire.”

“I hope that’s true. I chose you for your fighting ability, not your penchant for killing.”

He turned to pace around the small tent.

“I want them to see the strength of Dovoryn. I want every slobbering fool in those stands to see what they’ve been doubting. To see the looks on their faces at the end of these Games, after their best men have fallen to your technique.” He met Anna’s gaze with a contemptuous sneer. “And you cast aside your helmet to show them that they have been bested by a _woman_.” 

Anna remained silent, holding his gaze a moment longer, before dropping her eyes as well as her visor. Runeard’s brows pinched slightly. The woman’s behavior had been different since their arrival in Arendelle. Just subtly so, but he knew Anna better than she possibly knew herself. Something had her preoccupied, and it challenged the obedience he had built up in her since childhood. If he could find what this something was, he would not hesitate to remove it from her mind. 

The sounding of a trumpet broke through to Runeard and he turned to appraise his fighters once more. Flynn was kneeling in his own armor - noticeably not as well-worn as Anna’s - and was finishing buffing his long sword. Runeard was sure his champion had prepared her own equipment in the first hours of the dawn, caring for her blade and buckler shield. He did allow himself a bemused smile at the sight of her freshly polished boots; Anna was not usually one to care much about appearance. 

“It’s time,” He started. “Make me proud.”

At that, Runeard slapped the tent flap out of his way and strode towards the stands. Just as he was about to step onto the dais with an empty seat, he was approached by a burly man swathed in thick furs. Runeard eyed him warily. 

“King Runeard! Your Majesty.” The man bowed, his mess of blond hair falling into his eyes. 

“Are we acquainted?” 

Runeard couldn’t hide his irritation. In Dovoryn he would not expect to be approached so boldly, and never by such a wild-looking… mongrel. The heavy, animalistic musk the man carried put the king on edge, despite the largely unthreatening smile aimed at him. 

“Ah, no, sire. I wanted to introduce myself before things begin. I’m Kristoff, of Northuldra. I’m facing one of your men today. Andreas…? I think it was.”

Runeard lifted a thick eyebrow, intrigued. He thought Northuldra to be a rather primitive place, a people who frolicked among reindeer and dwelled in villages of tents. He was pleased to see that his assumptions were more or less correct. The man was indeed well built, with a thick torso that could take a hit and muscular arms showing through the splits in his furs. Runeard wasn’t perturbed, however, Anna had faced opponents of large size before, _and_ brought them down. 

“Yes, well,” He gave Kristoff an uninterested once over. “I look forward to seeing how you fare against him.”

Without another word, Runeard left the Northuldran and carried on to an empty seat.

……

As the swords clashed with another jarring clang, Elsa felt another sigh escape her. While she had fond memories of the Days of Games, she found the fighting tournaments to be quite repetitive. Large men clad in garish armor, waving their swords at each other, brimming with testosterone. She supposed it gave them an outlet to boast, but she felt there were better ways to show off their skills. Her brother, however, enjoyed the bouts immensely. Hans was next to her now, out of his chair and cheering along with the rest of the crowd. More than once had he confided in her his desire to compete in the Games, specifically the dangerous tournaments. Only, Hans had no experience wielding a sword. Their father had forbidden the boy from even the lightest of fencing lessons on account of his weak constitution. 

“Aw, did you see that?!”

Elsa’s view was disrupted by Hans leaning in front of her, a happy childlike smile creasing his eyes. 

“What a takedown! Did you see, sister?”

Unfortunately, the blonde hadn’t been paying close attention to the ending of the fight, but she didn’t want to spoil his excitement. 

“I did. Impressive.”

Hans nodded his agreement, before turning away to wait for the next pair of fighters to enter the ring. Elsa felt a soft hand envelop her own, giving an affectionate squeeze. From her left, her mother smiled at her, a knowing glint in her eyes.

“Impressive? Are you taking an interest in - oh, what do you call it? These ruffians beating each other with sticks?”

Iduna laughed at the pout gracing the princess’s features. Elsa squeezed her hand firmly.

“Because that’s what it is! You know I’d rather be watching archery. At least that takes a bit more brain and not so much of this brawn.”

She gestured to the ring, where the next two contestants were gearing up for their introductions and subsequent match. Her eyes caught on the small armored figure entering one side of the field, and she frowned.

“That man can’t be competing, surely?”

The question had been directed at Iduna, but Hans jumped in, quite ecstatic.

“Why not? He’s a bit small, okay, but look at his stance! His armor is well tarnished, too. And I’m sure he’s been paired with a fair opponent.”

But just as Hans finished, they saw a sizeable man stepping in from the other side. Another man followed behind, seemingly struggling with a battle-axe almost as tall as himself. 

“Is that your fair opponent, Hans?” Elsa deadpanned.

“Oh… it’ll be fine,” He shrugged. “These are always the best warriors from each kingdom. That small man wouldn’t be here if he wasn’t the best.”

It did little to put Elsa at ease. Though the Games were supposed to be friendly, that didn’t stop any of the more unruly competitors and the “accidents” that always came. Blood and bruises, broken bones, even the rare death. Elsa could only imagine what would happen pitting someone so small in stature against an opponent three times their size. 

“On the left! Kristoff of Northuldra!” The crier called, his voice reaching even the highest stands.

Kristoff stepped forward amongst cheers and stripped himself of the heavy fur cloak, flexing his bare biceps to please the crowd. The thick leather of a reindeer crisscrossing over his barrel chest was the only thing protecting him from any of his opponent’s blows. He took the battle-axe from the other Northuldran and raised it above his head, one-handed, in a show of his strength. The crowd screamed noisily at the display.

“He’s a handsome young man,” Iduna mused. 

“He’s a young _oaf_! Look at the dolt, wearing no armor!” Hans threw his hands up.

“Well, he’s not as handsome as _you_ , my little prince.”

Iduna reached over to pull her son in for a kiss on his cheek. His face flooded beet red as he weakly tried to escape her hold.

“Mother, please.”

Elsa had to stifle her laughter behind a hand. The crier then called out again.

“On the right! Andreas of Dovoryn!” 

Elsa watched the small man step forward a handful of paces. He did not raise his sword, or wave, or acknowledge the crowd in any way. He simply drew his blade and faced the still galavanting Kristoff. Elsa waited nervously for the starting bell to sound.

……

Anna didn’t hesitate. Before the bell had completed its ring, she was running. Kristoff was a bear of a man, and she wanted to take him down quickly, before he had a chance to keep her at bay with that giant axe. The blond was still wasting time frolicking with the crowd, so if she was fast enough, she knew she could get inside his defenses. Just as he was turning to finally enter the fight, the redhead was there, shooting her boot out into the back of his knee, toppling him. She swung her arm around in an arc and buffeted him across his shaggy head with the buckler shield. She thought she had hit with enough force to knock her opponent unconscious. But Kristoff shook his head briefly before peering at her through his fringe. 

“Oh shit.” She breathed.

The man launched himself at her, trapping her between his chest and the thick pole of his axe. He crushed her, pulling his hold tighter and tighter until his arms were shaking from the exertion. He laughed as she struggled to free herself. She fought to draw in breath, feeling as if her ribcage would burst from any more pressure. Her legs kicked uselessly, her arms were pinned snugly to her sides. The instinctual urge to panic tried to set in, but she beat it back by sheer will. Anna forced her eyes to search for even the smallest opening. She saw his grime-covered hair, the ruddy skin of his face, his open lipped grimace.

There.

The fighter brought her head down onto his face. She felt as much as heard the iron of her helmet connect with his teeth, like a pickaxe striking rock. The force drove the helmet back against her as well, and she felt the skin along her cheekbone split. But Kristoff released her with a pained roar and she dropped to the dirt, taking a moment to collect her fallen sword and shield before rolling backwards out of his reach. She looked up in time to see Kristoff pulling a hand away from his much-bloodied mouth to spit a tooth - or was that two? - onto the ground. The look in his eyes was deathly. 

The fresh air now filling her lungs refueled her fighting energy, and she fought to keep the beast within her at bay. Runeard had been clear; she could not lose herself in this fight. 

……

“Was that legal?” Iduna questioned.

Elsa spared her mother a worried glance but immediately looked back to the fight. Andreas was on his feet again, but Kristoff looked very irked at having lost several teeth. 

“The mediators have not stepped in.” She heard Agnarr answer.

Kristoff gripped his battle-axe in both hands and strode towards his small opponent. Despite the size of the weapon, the blond swung quickly, and Elsa gasped in surprise as Andreas dove to the side to avoid the sharp blade. She felt Hans trembling beside her, and blindly grasped for his hand. 

……

Anna hit the ground awkwardly as she avoided another swing of Kristoff’s massive axehead. She needed to get inside his swing, but he moved so swiftly, as if the weapon were no more than a twig. She felt her anger swell; the beast inside lunging at its chains in an attempt at freedom. If she gave in even a little, she would be consumed by it. She focused on the pain in her cheek to try to ground herself. Kristoff swung again, shouting, blood drops flying from his lips, but she moved, the blade sinking into the hard dirt beneath. Anna used the several precious seconds it took the man to loosen the axe to jump to her feet and get a better grip around her shield. Taking a direct hit from Kristoff would inevitably send her flying and give him enough time to strike twice. She would have to chance it and get close to that terrifying axe, and dodge it while coming up on the inside of his swing. She felt her heart begin to race.

Anna dug her heels in as the blond man lifted his weapon for an overhead attack. As the axehead came directly for her, Anna brought her shield up at an angle to glance the blade off to the side. But her angle was off, and the axe broke through the basswood of the small shield, catching the underside of her bracer and ripping into the soft skin of her wrist. She had thrown Kristoff off balance, however, and his hold of the mighty axe faltered. Anna did not miss it, and surged forward with all of her weight into his near arm, where she brought the pommel of her sword down into his elbow. She heard the snap as his joint hyperextended and saw as a spiking sliver of bone burst through his tan skin.

_Finish this._

Anna blinked. Time seemed to slow. It was not her own mind that had conjured the words. 

_Kill him._

Anna looked down at the man beneath her. She could see him holding his mutilated elbow, mouth open in a scream, but she could not hear it. She looked farther, at the sword she held tight in her grasp. 

_Do it!_

Eyes back to Kristoff. She raised the sword high above her head. He stared up at her, silent, eyes wide as realization struck. He attempted to scramble away from her, his legs kicking and ruined arm flopping uselessly. 

Anna swung.

……

Runeard stood from his seat when he saw Anna raise her sword. She was going to blatantly disobey him and kill the Northuldran. He had no doubts that if the redhead had not been wearing a helmet, her teal eyes would be overcast with the madness that came forth whenever her bloodlust was up. He had to stop her, but knew he couldn’t reach her before her blade fell. But movement caught his eye and Runeard saw one of the mediators rushing towards the fighters. Beyond him was Flynn, racing desperately, and then speeding past the mediator and shouting loudly and crisply despite how hard he ran. He leapt and crashed into Anna just as she had begun her swing. The two went tumbling and skidding through the dirt from Flynn’s momentum, Anna’s sword shooting from her hand to clatter along its own path. Runeard let out the breath he had been holding when Anna did not attempt to rise. 

Then sharp anger flooded him. Anna had shown the strength of Dovoryn, yes, but she almost went too far - _would have_ went too far if Flynn had not been so quick. The stupid girl could be disqualified from the Games and leave a stain on his reputation. Runeard had been sure she could control herself, keep her rage reined in. He began his way towards Dovoryn’s tent, where Flynn was currently hauling Anna to. 

_I invite you to meet with us._

Runeard stopped, turning about hurriedly. No one was near enough to him to have spoken, not so clearly. His eyes flashed wildly about. In the distance, he saw a woman, cloaked in black and pale grey eyes studying him. With a blink, she was gone, and Runeard was left feeling uneasy. He waited a moment, watching for her, but she did not reappear. 

……

“He was… he wasn’t going to kill him,” Hans turned to his sister with frightened eyes. “Was he?”

Elsa was still shocked from the events that had just unfolded. Andreas had clearly won, albeit in a rather gruesome way, but he had raised his sword again. Rumors surrounding the kingdom of Dovoryn were certainly dark, but she hadn’t put too much stock in them, like most rumors. It seemed that maybe the tales had a hint of truth to them. After all, she had witnessed a Dovorian raise his blade on a wounded, unarmed man. There was no honor to be had in that.

“I-I honestly don’t know, Hans. I assume he was. That other man wouldn’t have brought him down otherwise.”

His face fell. He had been pleased to see such a light-bodied man like himself competing. Knowing that Andreas would be so cowardly as to strike a downed man broke his heart. Elsa blanched at the sight. She gathered her skirts in a hand and turned abruptly away, pushing through the other patrons. 

“Elsa, where are you going?” Agnarr called.

“To speak to the _good_ Sir Andreas,” She shouted over her shoulder. “And give him a few words as the future queen of Arendelle!”

……

The slap resounded loudly as the back of Runeard’s knuckles struck Anna’s jaw. A fresh gout of blood burst from the gash along her cheek. 

“You idiot!”

Anna kept her eyes down as her king roared at her. Truly, his words stung more than any hit she could receive. She was meant to show her submission in times like these.

“What in the names of _all the gods_ were you _doing_? You had my trust, Anna, and you betrayed it. Because you cannot control yourself the _one time_ I ask it of you.”

Flynn stood next to Anna, silently stripping her of her armor and tending to her wounds at the command of his king. She knew how awkward he felt when he was made to be present for Runeard’s wrath. She would speak with him when given the chance, to thank him for his quick action, in stopping her before she was able to thrust her sword into Kristoff’s back. 

“This is the kingdom of Arendelle. They do not tolerate _animals_ here.”

Anna looked up to him, her eyes hard and flashing dangerously. Runeard bristled at the sight and stepped forward to tower over her, staring down at her just as hard. In an instant, the redhead’s eyes softened and she remembered it was her king she was snarling at. She dropped her eyes again as a shudder ran across her shoulders. Runeard curled his lip.

“Leave. I don’t want to see you again until your next fight tomorrow. That is, if you aren’t completely disqualified.”

Flynn quickly finished removing her armor and dabbing a thick salve onto her wounds. He looked her over with an almost unreadable expression before stepping back. Anna kept her eyes to the floor, all but ignoring her king, as she exited the tent, meekly tossing the flap aside despite the anger she felt. She sought to have a moment to herself, to replay the bout in her mind and find out where the sudden urge to kill Kristoff had come from. She _had_ had her rage in check, she had been fully aware of every moment. Someone or something else had given her those thoughts. 

“Anna?”

The redhead looked up at the lilting voice. Elsa stood before her with a questioning expression. Anna blinked several times in surprise, before bending at the waist in a bow. She winced at the pain that lanced along her ribs, hoping Elsa wouldn’t spot it. 

“Your Highness, what are you doing here?”

“I should be asking you - wait, you’re bleeding.”

Elsa reached for Anna’s face, ghosting her fingers under the split in the woman’s cheek. Anna backed away before the princess could truly touch her.

“N-no, I’m fine. I just - I nicked myself on my lord’s sword in the rush.”

Elsa’s demeanor quickly changed.

“Your lord? You mean Andreas?”

The fighter nodded dumbly through Elsa’s ire. She did not want the princess catching her on the first day of the Games. 

“Well, I’ve come to see him.”

That was not what Anna had expected to hear. She wasted several seconds in stunned silence, giving Elsa the opportunity to stride past her. Her hand shot out and latched onto the blonde’s.

“Ah, uh, wait!”

A cooling wave of calm washed over her, and Anna felt almost serene. Her anger had dissipated, seeming to melt away as easily as a snowflake on the tip of the tongue. She looked at Elsa in silent wonder, to see that she was just as speechless. It took Anna a moment to come back to herself, and to force herself to release her hold. 

“Uh, that is… you can’t. See him, I mean. He’s… not well.”

Elsa remained staring thoughtfully at her own hand. 

“Um, Your Highness?”

The snowy blonde broke from her reverie and raised her eyes to Anna’s. 

“Fine. Another time then. But I will see him eventually.” She said sternly, to which Anna nodded adamantly. 

Elsa stepped closer to peer into the other woman’s face. Her cool breath played across her cheeks, easing the stinging pain of her wound.

“There’s just… something about you.” She breathed.

Anna held her breath, but she couldn’t look away from the deep blue of Elsa’s eyes. They were incredibly close, inappropriately so, Anna realized at the back of her mind. But she felt powerless in that moment. Her feet would not obey her command to back away and put space between herself and the princess. A part of her - a small, sinister part - wondered what would happen if she inched just a little bit closer, if she dropped her eyes down to Elsa’s full lips, and if she….

But then Elsa was pulling away, cocking her head with a smile, her eyebrows pinching in thought. The fighter could breathe again.

“Would you accompany me to the next round of tournaments?”

Yes, Anna wanted nothing more than to be next to her. To offer her arm and escort her anywhere she desired, whether that be to the Days of Games or across the untamed waters of the Dark Sea. The princess seemed to call to something within her, a deeper part of herself that even Anna didn’t know. But she felt an incessant nag in her gut that it wasn’t right. She had no place next to such a delicate being. Especially not after she had nearly killed an unarmed man on Arendelle soil, not that Elsa knew. Runeard’s words always rang in her ears, that she was an animal, that she was a carnal savage who couldn’t control the rage burning inside, that one day she would finally snap under the building pressure. 

“I can’t.”

The small smile on Elsa’s face fell and Anna winced at the hurt in her eyes. She opened her mouth to speak but the redhead was quicker.

“It isn’t that I don’t want to, but there is something -“

Runeard stepped out of the tent then and his gaze immediately fell on the two women, jarring Anna into silence. She dropped into a clumsy bow, not sure who it was aimed at, before turning on her heel and trudging swiftly across the field without another word. 

“Anna…?” Elsa called, before turning her eyes upon Runeard quizzically. 

She didn’t hold his stern gaze long before leaving herself, following in the fighter’s footsteps at a slower pace. Runeard followed her with his eyes, the gears of his mind working quickly. He was at a loss as to how his champion would know the princess of Arendelle. Anna didn’t make friends, of this he was sure. She was beginning to raise many questions, and Runeard wasn’t sure the answers he found would please him.

……

Deep in the night, Runeard woke from his slumber suddenly. He thought he had had a nightmare, but no memory of a dream came to him, nor was his heart apace. He furrowed his brow, confused, until an overwhelming urge came over him. He was compelled to leave his bed, pull on his boots and cloak, and leave his chambers. A pull deep within his chest made him do these things. Runeard felt this was required of him, something that he desperately needed to do. He was heading toward an important place where important people were waiting to meet him. 

His footsteps echoed softly as he traversed the empty streets of the city. He walked for a long time, passing into the hills of Arendelle where the looming cliffs blocked out the moonlight. Then he stopped, the pull telling him he had arrived. A cackle broke the stillness of the night, echoing off the stone walkway. 

“Oh, King Runeard, we’re so pleased you could join us.”

The king came back to himself, feeling as if he had awoken from a dream. But he was not in his bed, instead he was standing in a dim side street, and the eerie laughter wafting out of the darkness was certainly real. He cast around, searching for the source of the laughter.

“Who is it? What have you done to me?”

“Easy, good king. We are not here to harm you.”

A shape emerged from the deepest shadows, silently stalking toward Runeard. He went for his sword, and growled when he found he had not brought it. He eyed the figure, trying to make out any details, but could only see the silhouette of a man-shaped being. The figure breached the small amount of light leaking into the street, and Runeard saw pale eyes glinting.

“You. I saw you skulking at the Games.”

The woman lowered her cowl, revealing a mess of wild black hair. She flashed Runeard a devilish smile.

“Aw, you remembered me? How charming.” 

Runeard narrowed his eyes, following the woman as she began to slowly circle him. He would not allow this stranger at his back. 

“Enough. How did you get past my guardsmen and bring me here?”

The woman cackled again, though softer.

“I didn’t get past anyone. I simply invited you, good king.”

Runeard stopped, his brain searching back to that afternoon. The voice he had heard.

“What is this? You spoke into my mind? You witch.”

The woman stopped, as well. A wicked smile slowly crossed her features.

“Precisely.”

With a loud snapping sound, the woman vanished, leaving her cloak to flutter to the ground in a heap. Runeard’s breath caught. He knew the sight of magic, and this woman had it. He circled aimlessly, looking every which way for where she had gone. But suddenly the shadows were alive with hooded figures, and he felt a deep chill spread over his neck, across his chest, and down to his toes. His muscles tightened like steel. He was paralyzed, unable to even clench his fist. 

“Release me!”

The woman was before him. And more women were appearing, shuffling out from the shadows in hooded robes of their own. A coven.

“We’ve come to bargain, King Runeard.”

“I will do no bargaining with you!” Runeard couldn’t help but laugh. “As if you have anything to offer me.”

“And that is where you are wrong, good king. I offer you control of a _god_.”

Runeard paused, unsure of what the woman was speaking of. Control of a god? The deities had not been heard from since their first encounter with man in the most primitive of times. It was hard to believe the beings even existed at all, the only evidence being the ancient temples scattered across the known world. It was told that these ethereal beings had one day descended from the heavens and showered the land with their own blood, subsequently creating what man called magic. The gods had hidden the magic, meaning for only the most determined and willing of men to discover it and unlock the deepest mysteries of the world. The story had been twisted through the ages, however, into a story of deception. That man had pricked the fingers of the sleeping gods and stolen away with their blood. And so the gods cursed the blood and turned it foul, and anyone who used the blood to make magic was cursed as well, left to be shunned by their peers and killed for their treachery. 

For years he had believed the stories he was told, that magic was weak, a coward’s tool. That during his time as king, he would be in the right to purge it from his kingdom. But magic was really meant for the strong, and it made one powerful. Runeard had seen it. He could only imagine the strength the magic of an actual god would hold. 

“You have my attention, witch.” He said quietly.

The woman narrowed her pale eyes, but after a moment gave a small nod of her head. Runeard felt the chill leave from his body, and he was free to move again. He massaged his forearm, working out the stiffness lingering in his muscles.

“I prefer to know the name of the one I do business with.”

“I am the Mother.”

Runeard frowned, wary of such a title. The woman tilted her head, her thick curtain of hair cascading over her shoulder. She smiled.

“And you may call me Mother Gothel.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There, another longer chapter. Ooh, the plot thickens! Maybe. How about, the plot thickens but not exponentially! Anyway. Thanks for reading!


	6. A darkness behind your eyes

Anna couldn’t sleep. An incessant stirring in her chest drove her to pace the floor of her small cabin, trying to focus on the gentle rocking of the ship beneath her feet, but was proving to be an impossible task. Her mind had not stopped replaying the events of that afternoon. The voice in her head, driving her to kill Kristoff. Runeard’s wrath and the shame she had brought him. Her brief encounter with Elsa, and the peaceful effects she had. 

Anna frowned.

She had rejected the princess’s offer. She had ran at the sight of her king, fearing more punishment at having been spotted lingering after his firm dismissal. Maybe Elsa saw her as a coward now. Or worse, as uninterested in her.

Anna lowered her gaze to her open palm, and traced along the creases in her skin with a finger. There was nothing unusual about it. That is, of course, aside from the callused skin and numerous tiny scars earned from her years of training. However, when her hand had touched Elsa’s, and her body had flooded with that calm…. 

Elsa’s touch affected her, that much was obvious. And from what Anna had seen in the princess’s eyes, her own touch affected the blonde in some way, as well. The redhead didn’t believe in such fairy tale things as soulmates, but she did believe that magic existed. Her king had encouraged her to study the known history of magic, both the truth and the lies. He had instilled in her all his knowledge of the subject. She didn’t grow to share Runeard’s passion for magic, but she knew all there was to know. This connection with Elsa was surely of a magical nature. 

Anna turned to look out the porthole of her cabin. She squinted out across the waters of the fjord, and back around to the the tall spires of the castle. Her heart spiked, and it was enough.

She wanted to know.

……

“No, Kristoff, hold still!”

The blond thrashed again, and Honeymaren lost her grip on both his arm and the fresh bandages. She let out a loud frustrated growl. 

“It hurts!” Kristoff yelled.

“Of course it hurts!” She shot back. “Your arm is broken and your skin was just sewn back together! Did you expect different? Now let me rewrap this!”

Kristoff wrinkled his nose in a grimace, threatening to reopen the large cut crossing his bottom lip. But he relented, and leaned back in his chair, allowing Honeymaren to treat his injured arm. He couldn’t stop his tongue from prodding along his gums where several teeth had been lost. He wasn’t pleased about the damage Andreas had left him with. 

“I probably won’t be able to swing an axe again. What am I supposed to do?”

“Oh, that is such a shame.” Honeymaren said flatly.

“I collect most of the firewood for our village. You recall that, don’t you?”

The brunette rolled her eyes with an indifferent shrug as she gave one final tug on his wound bindings. In her mind, it had served her kinsman right after he had refused to not enter the Days of Games. She was of a mind with their leader, Yelana, who had said Northuldra had no part in the Games and never would. It hadn’t deterred Kristoff, however, who - for some inane reason or another - felt he had something to prove. And poor Honeymaren had been roped into joining him, along with her brother Ryder, at the request of Yelana. Now she found herself caring for the village’s idiot strongman in the middle of the night in a foreign land during events that she could not care less about. 

“Okay, but listen,” Kristoff continued. “That man wasn’t ordinary. I couldn’t see his face, but I could sense… _something_. Unusual. It was an extraordinary feeling, at least.”

“Perhaps he has been blessed by the gods.”

“It couldn’t be. Why would the gods bless anyone from Dovoryn?”

Honeymaren thought on it for a moment. It was told that Dovoryn was a dark and dreary kingdom with a heavy past. The place was renowned for its witch-hunts, news of which always spread rapidly throughout the land because of the brutality. Many, many people had been branded as users of magic and thus executed. It wasn’t clear how many of those people were actually _proven_ to be controllers of the gods’ power, but it hadn’t mattered to the monarchy. Although, things had changed after Runeard had inherited the throne after his father’s death nearly twenty-five years ago. The hunts had slowed considerably, maybe even ceased altogether. Honeymaren couldn’t recall the last time she had heard about Dovoryn’s latest purge. Not since she was a young child. 

“Things have changed, I believe. It’s not impossible.”

Kristoff rolled his eyes, doubtful. “It sounds like we’re forgetting that Andreas was going to kill me.”

“It did look that way, didn’t it?”

The blond tossed her an incredulous scowl, to which she simply shrugged again. As Honeymaren turned to leave him to his rest, a sudden notion struck her. 

“I’m going to ask him about it.”

Kristoff cocked his head in confusion. “Ask who about what?”

“Andreas. About being blessed.” 

Kristoff drew his head back and gaped at his kinsman. He knew she was straightforward, no nonsense, always a firebrand. She wasn’t one to let something go unsaid, anytime or anywhere. In fact, her lack of a mental filter had always gotten her into trouble as a child. 

“Honeymaren, no. That is not something to mess around with. If he _does_ have a blessing, he isn’t going to want you exposing him. You know it isn’t accepted here.”

“It’s accepted in Northuldra.”

“We are not _in_ Northuldra.” Kristoff countered.

“No, but _I_ am Northuldran. It will be fine. Yelana has taught me well in the ways of the gods’ power.”

The man wasn’t convinced, not at all, but he was too weary to continue arguing with the stubborn brunette. All he could do was close his eyes and shake his head in submission. He heard Honeymaren shuffle closer and felt as she tried to nudge something into his good hand. He cracked an eye open to see. 

“Willow bark. I believe Yelana foresaw your sore defeat in the Games.” Honeymaren said with mock pity. 

“Of course she did.” Kristoff deadpanned.

……

Anna strode alongside Flynn as they made for the ring and their second day of tournaments. Flynn was set to battle three different opponents today, and was pleased to be given another chance to show off. His bout yesterday had been quite embarrassing for him. After a mere ten seconds of battle, his Arendellian opponent had swiped his feet from under him and placed his sword to his neck, prompting Flynn to surrender. He blamed it on being distracted by Anna’s earlier incident. 

Anna was distracted. Her head was still hazy with the what-ifs that her brain kept pushing onto her. Sleep had not come easy. In fact, the redhead had been asleep a mere hour before Flynn had come calling, pounding on her door just after the sun had crested the horizon. Her eyes roamed along the sights that the city had to offer, her ears heard Flynn’s rambling voice but didn’t register the words. She was worried that her king was still angry with her, as he had every right to be. By some miracle, Andreas had not been disqualified from competing, and today Anna would strive to make Runeard proud again. The voice in her head, she tried to convince herself, had been her own after all. A part of her that was upset she had not given in to her mania. It still sounded unreal, but what other explanation was there? She was unaware of a way for one to project their voice into another’s head, despite all her years of studying magic. The fighter was fearful of confiding in Runeard. What if he thought she had become as mad as in the fighting ring? Confiding in Flynn didn’t seem like a good idea, either. Anna had no clue as to his feelings toward magic, and didn’t want to risk her reputation with him. 

Anna’s attention snapped to as they stepped into the Dovoryn tent. Runeard stood away from them and was admiring the broken pieces of Anna’s buckler shield. As the two of them dropped to a knee in a bow, he turned, nodding his head. 

“That Northuldran sure did some damage. I thought the basswood of Dovoryn to be a bit stronger than this.”

He waved a small piece of the shield in front of himself and then frowned.

“I suppose you’re in need of new shield, something tougher this time. Alder? Lined with a hardy leather. Yes?”

Anna nodded. “Yes, sire.”

She felt uneasy. Runeard was in a fantastic mood. He rarely had input on any of his peoples’ equipment, leaving all the details to his smiths and soldiers. He did pay slightly more attention to Anna’s gear, but never enough to actually recommend wood for a shield. Apparently something had happened in the king’s favor, and Anna was grateful for it. 

“Well, I’ll take care of the details and have everything ready by tomorrow. For now, make do. I’ve seen you strike down many a man with only a blade.” 

The man came forward and placed his large hands over Anna’s shoulders, smiling down at her. 

“I have an important task for you, Anna. You will escort the princess of Arendelle to tonight’s banquet.” 

“Wait, what?”

Anna couldn’t help but be confused. She blocked out Flynn’s baffled yet amused smirk from the corner of her vision and focused in on her king, who she realized had faltered at her tone.

“I-I mean… sire, why would I…? Escort the _princess_ …?”

A soft chuckle rumbled out from deep in Runeard’s chest as his smile regained its brightness.

“That is the question, isn’t it?” He turned and began to pace slowly. “It seems the Arendellian prince, Hans, has put in a good word for you to his father. You’ve made all sorts of friends here, haven’t you?” He smirked at her.

Anna had to stop herself from raising an eyebrow. Now she was even more confused. She didn’t recall ever meeting the prince, she wasn’t sure of what he even looked like. He could only know of her existence through Elsa, but that didn’t make sense. Anna had done nothing to be deemed worthy of the prince’s good word. If anything, she should be on his bad side for blatantly blowing off his sister’s invitation the day prior. 

“Oh, uh, yes, my king. Very fine people.” 

She glanced to Flynn to gauge his reaction. He looked rather impressed. Surely there was no way he could be behind this. But her attention was drawn back to her king as he approached her again.

“It’s settled, then. Report to Captain Francis the moment you finish your bout.”

“The captain, sire?” Anna questioned.

“To size you for Dovoryn court wear. Francis has an extra set he’s willing to take in for you. I can’t have you escorting a royal in those blood-stained rags.” 

He laughed again, and Anna and Flynn both joined him, though Anna’s laughter had a nervous tinge to it. If Runeard noticed, he didn’t show it, and clapped the two on their backs heartily. 

“I’ll leave you to prepare, then. I know you won’t disappoint me today, Anna.”

She felt the hand on her back tense, and she nodded vigorously. 

“I won’t fail you again, Your Majesty.”

With a final, satisfied guffaw, Runeard left the tent, leaving the flap swinging in his wake. Flynn immediately faced Anna with a thick eyebrow raised and a very amused smile on his lips. 

“Well, well, that was something. He’s in a _very_ good mood,” He tilted his head with a mock thoughtful expression. “I wasn’t aware you knew the prince _too_ , Crimson.”

Anna sharply let out the breath she hadn’t known she’d been holding. She was too bewildered to match Flynn’s level of excitement. 

“I wasn’t aware of that, either.” She said quietly. 

“Someone is looking out for you. I, for one, would like to know who.”

“Are you sure _you_ had nothing to do with this?”

Flynn laughed once, loudly. “I’m a mere soldier. I don’t possess that sort of influence.”

The redhead grew thoughtful again. Things had become so strange since setting foot in Arendelle. She felt the stirring in her chest again, and placed a hand over it. Flynn drew her out of her thoughts by ruffling her bangs. 

“Alright, time to get ready. I hope you don’t have plans to skewer anyone on your blade today.”

……

Runeard looked over the gathering crowd until he spotted the darkly cloaked figure he was waiting for. Gothel peered down at him from high in the gallery. The king nodded to her, which she returned in kind before turning and easily vanishing among the spectators. Runeard continued onward to his own seat. 

The witch Mother had told him all she knew of Arendelle from her many years of watching. The princess Elsa had the purest of magic coursing through her blood, seemingly gifted by the gods themselves. Gothel claimed to have seen her power at work, and insisted that the blonde was the most essential part in their scheme. The princess kept her powers so guarded, not even her family knew of what she possessed. That is, except for one. The young prince was that exception. 

And Gothel had bewitched him. 

As a young twelve-year-old boy, worried for the wellbeing of his sister, he had succumbed to Gothel’s charm. 

“I understand your pain,” She had said. “I know what it is like to hold magic in your veins. Together, we will help your dear sister.”

She told him the future she had foreseen. A person would come to Arendelle, a person who held a special magic of their own, and set in motion a chain of events that would end with Hans’ beloved sister free from the burden she carried. Hans had taken that to mean Elsa would be swept off her feet by a dashing nobleman and thus freed from her responsibilities as future queen. He himself would get the throne, and his sister would be happy. The truth, however, was far more sinister, and so Gothel had not disagreed with the boy. 

And now Runeard knew that he was the person the Mother had foreseen. Getting close to Elsa was the next step, but an intimacy was required that Hans could not provide. So Runeard volunteered Anna, because he knew she would not deny him. She was his most trusted servitor, and the most obedient, most loyal, willing to give her life for him with just one word. Seeing that his champion was already acquainted with Elsa was even better. Getting Hans to speak so highly of Anna to his father had been as easy as breathing for Gothel. She had gained the prince’s utmost trust during the years. Runeard could laugh at the boy’s total naivety. 

……

The moment the fight was over, Honeymaren was sprinting along behind the row of tents, making a beeline for the black one near the end. She knew her impulsiveness would probably get her into trouble, but she also knew she had to be the first to enter the tent before she could be stopped. Luckily, no one was standing outside, and with a smile, she all but dove into the tent. It was empty, as both the Dovoryn fighting men were at the ring, one of which was had just finished his bout and was undoubtedly heading to break in his tent. 

Indeed, Honeymaren heard voices approaching. Two men entered, deeply engrossed in conversation. One was tall, dark-haired, with a long sword at his hip. Too large in stature to be who she sought. The other was a head shorter, wearing pitted armor adorned with red stripes. Honeymaren stepped forward from the shadows as the man began to remove his helmet.

“My lord, are you… Andreas…?”

The brunette’s sentence trailed off when she saw the freckled face that helmet had been hiding. Copper hair tumbled down around Andreas’ shoulders - no, this couldn’t be Andreas. It was a woman, no older than herself. Honeymaren gaped, open-mouthed, in shocked silence. The two before her stared back, just as surprised. 

“Uh… who are you?” The dark-haired man asked.

Honeymaren blinked several times, coming back to herself, remembering why she had come here. 

“I’m… I’m looking for Andreas. Where is he?”

“You’re looking at him.”

The man gestured to the redhead beside him, who threw him a skeptical look. Honeymaren frowned, still confused at the discovery. 

“No, I just saw him fighting on the field. You can’t be him… can you?” 

“I am,” The redhead shrugged. “I hadn’t thought I would be exposed so quickly.”

Honeymaren stepped forward and shook her head, thrusting her palms outward.

“Oh no, I won’t tell anyone! It wouldn’t be my place. I just wanted to speak to Andreas… or, well, you?”

“Anna. This is Flynn.”

The man smiled salaciously and waggled his brow, at which Honeymaren scowled. Anna stepped in front of Flynn before her companion could make a fool of himself and embarrass the both of them, and gave the woman a once over.

“Are you Northuldran?”

Honeymaren nodded. “Yes, but I’m not here for what you’re thinking. Kristoff will recover. There’s no lasting damage. …Of course, except for his arm… and teeth. But that is irrelevant right now.” 

She stepped close to Anna, intently peering into her face as if searching for something. She nodded to herself before reaching for Anna’s hand.

“May I?” She questioned.

The fighter nodded, confused but intrigued. Honeymaren held her hand, palm up, and removed her glove before gliding the pads of her fingers along Anna’s skin. 

“Kristoff wasn’t mistaken, for once. This _is_ something unusual here.”

That caught Anna’s interest. 

“Unusual? What do you mean?”

Honeymaren met her eyes, her own narrowed just shy of suspicion. “You are not aware?” 

“Aware of what?”

“Of your blessing,” She traced several of the line’s on her palm. “The gods, or more specifically, _a_ god, has bestowed you with their blessing. Magic, it might be said. You didn’t seek this out?”

Anna was stunned. This was possibly the explanation she was searching for. Something to help explain the odd connection she had with Elsa. Only, the redhead didn’t feel as if magic resided within her. She only felt a boiling rage in her soul. An anger she had harbored since she could remember. Why would she be given this burden under the guise of a blessing?

“I didn’t. What does it mean?”

Honeymaren released Anna’s hand and raised her own to place it over the redhead’s heart. A frown crossed her features but was gone the next second. She tilted her head in wonder as she met teal eyes. 

“It seems the gods have some purpose for you. I’m unable to say what that purpose is, but it will be important.” Then she pulled back, growing somber. “Be careful. There’s a darkness behind your eyes, Anna.”

Without another word, Honeymaren quickly left the tent, leaving Anna and Flynn looking at one another anxiously, pondering what the Northuldran’s words could possibly mean.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait. I won't make excuses, I struggled with this chapter. Wow, an Elsanna story and the two don't even interact in this chapter. I promise the next chapter brings a little steam into the picture. 
> 
> Honeymaren has got that sarcastic vibe. And I can totally see she and Anna as super BFFs who go out on the town and scope out babes together. And Kristoff is big. Not like Oaken big, but he should be big. I mean, he's a mountain man. He was raised by rock trolls who obviously threw themselves into his arms all the time. He harvests ice, like huge chunks of the stuff. Yeah, he's big. 
> 
> I appreciate any comments and kudos and all that jazz. Thanks for reading!


	7. Odd Together

A runaway droplet of blood gathered at the tip of her finger before dropping to the grass. Anna didn’t care in her haste to leave the castle grounds, she simply pressed the back of her hand firmer against her nose in an attempt to staunch the flow of blood. She wasn’t sure where she was going, she only knew that she had to - _had to_ \- get some distance and steady herself. 

A violent shiver coursed over her shoulders. She still felt so cold, absolutely freezing, despite the heat she could feel radiating off of her flushed cheeks. The redhead felt something else moving through her body, racing right along with the chill in her veins. An emotion Anna rarely found herself experiencing anymore. There was just no need for it.

Fear.

…… Several Hours Earlier ……

“That still sounds… bad.”

Hans furrowed his brow in doubt. He watched his sister carefully as she finished tying her long braid. His frown deepened when he saw her shoulders shake with a suppressed laugh.

“It’s not _bad_. Why must you think everything is _bad_?” Elsa teased.

“I don’t!” Hans shook his head. “I’m only worried for you. I still don’t know what to think of Dovoryn.”

Elsa strode towards him and lifted her hands to straighten the lapels of his jacket. He swatted her away, and this time she did laugh at his annoyance. 

“If you’re so worried, brother, why did you speak about her to Father?”

“That’s… that was… different.” The boy looked down, unsure. “That was before you told me what she does to your magic.”

The blonde tilted back on her heels and hummed in thought. Maybe confiding in Hans about Anna had been too much. But he had been the one to bring up the redhead in the first place, waltzing into her chambers and announcing that he had “news to share and I know this is sudden please don’t be angry.” Elsa hadn’t been angry in the slightest, but instead very pleasantly surprised, when Hans said he had talked Agnarr into having her escorted tonight by a stoic yet bright-eyed young Dovorian woman by the name of Anna. Yes, very surprised that her brother knew Anna, as well. 

Then it was Hans’ turn to be surprised when Elsa admitted to already being acquainted with Anna. 

“What she does to my magic is….” The princess paused, searching her mind for a way to express herself that wouldn’t cause her brother to experience secondhand embarrassment. 

“Pleasant, calming _and_ exciting, yes, you’ve said it,” Hans mumbled as his cheeks turned pink. “Please don’t say it again.”

Elsa’s smile grew wide at Hans’ blush. She knew he didn’t want to indulge in the details of his sister’s love life (really, what younger brother would?), but she had been bursting to tell someone, and Hans was the only one to know of the power flowing through her veins. 

That first meeting with Anna, when the redhead had approached her in the gardens, had been on the brink of life-altering for Elsa. At the smallest touch of their hands, the constant pulsing of icy magic beneath the blonde’s skin had slowed to a near stop. Rather than a persistent rush, like wild waves of water breaking from a freshly fractured dam, her magic turned still, calm, like a gentle brook bubbling along in the wood. Something within Anna - most likely her own source of magic - had caused it. Anna had been affected in some way, too. Elsa had not missed the quick flash of wonder in the redhead’s eyes before it was hidden behind a mask again. 

Elsa had wanted to ask her and confide in her immediately, and barely caught herself before everything came tumbling out. A conversation like that required privacy, and absolute trust. 

“I only worry because… yes, she could potentially be another gifted with magic, but where do her loyalties lie? I just don’t want you - I don’t know- to get hurt.” Hans said, breaking Elsa’s reverie.

“You’re very sweet, Hans,” She cupped his face to pinch lovingly along his sideburns. “I’m fairly sure I can handle myself on this one, though.”

The boy flashed a lopsided grin at his sister, though it didn’t quite reach his murky green eyes. He shook his head and stepped out of her embrace then, before clearing his throat and offering her his arm.

“Shall we go?” 

……

Anna felt near stifling in the black doublet she wore. She supposed maybe Captain Francis had altered it to be a little too small, though whether on purpose or not, she wasn’t sure. It still wasn’t clear if the man bore some ill will towards her, or if he was just always unpleasant. It usually proved to be something interesting to ponder. 

At least she had been able to don her own comfortable boots. The ceremonial saber sheathed and swinging loosely at her hip felt peculiar. Anna didn’t think the thing had any practical use, she wasn’t sure if it was even sharpened. How would she protect her king if something were to happen?

She frowned in distaste.

From the corner of her eye, the redhead took in Flynn beside her, similarly dressed in his own Dovoryn finery, but looking a hundred times better than herself, she figured. He stood at ease, slouching against the end banister at the top of the staircase. Anna’s attention turned to said staircase. The staircase that, momentarily, she would be descending with the Princess of Arendelle on her arm. The fighter wasn’t nervous, no, that wasn’t the feeling currently engulfing her brain. It may have been embarrassment. Embarrassment at the fact that she was escorting a princess when she herself had no official title and would be announced - the Marshal had so helpfully informed her - as Guest. 

“Don’t look so glum, Crimson.”

Flynn’s raspy voice broke through the silence and Anna looked at him. He was picking the last of the dirt from beneath his fingernails in so nonchalant a way it made the redhead bristle involuntarily. How could the man be so at ease? 

“Wait… why are you back here?” Anna asked.

Flynn flicked his fingers, disposing of any fingernail dirt residue. “I’m escorting some Lady of the court. Some last minute arrangement, I suppose.”

“On whose request?” 

“King Runeard, of course,” Flynn frowned at her. “You’re acting strange.”

Anna collected herself, schooling her expression into that of cool indifference. She shrugged at her companion. 

“I don’t act strange.”

The brunet smirked to himself, ever amused at the fighter’s talent to seemingly switch off her emotions. His eyes caught movement down the hallway then, and both his smirk and amusement grew when he registered who was approaching. In all the years he had known Anna, he could count on one hand the number of times she had lost her composure at the presence of another person. Yet that amount had doubled just since their time in Arendelle, and Flynn was entertained beyond words that all it took was a dainty, fair-haired girl to destroy the Crimson Warrior’s resolve. 

Flynn raised a thick eyebrow at Anna, who was still eyeing him questioningly, though much more subdued now. He raised his eyes to look past her and dipped his head to indicate she should follow his gaze.

“Your… _date_ has arrived. I see she isn’t unaccompanied.” 

Anna flipped around gracelessly, stumbling stupidly over her own feet. She scowled softly in quiet shame. But Flynn was speaking truthfully, Elsa was arriving. In her company, the redhead recognized the Princess Rapunzel, who she had nearly trampled several days prior, and her dark-haired guardian. A lone Arendellian guardsman trailed behind the rest, looking bored but his eyes were still sharp. But Anna’s attention was most fixed on the young man whose arm was slung loosely around Elsa’s slender waist. The two were engrossed in conversation, their heads ducked closely together. The man was smiling smally but Elsa’s expression looked almost upset, or maybe hurt. 

A sudden wave of protective rage filled Anna’s chest and she swallowed hard, then a smaller wave of confusion followed closely behind. This was a different type of protectiveness than the instinctual urge she felt when one of her own was in distress, namely King Runeard. When it came to that, she didn’t usually find herself wanting to tear out the throat of the assailant with her bare hands. 

It was different indeed, but she welcomed it. 

Flynn had noticed her change in posture too late. His eyes widened in surprise and a bit of horror when he saw his companion set her shoulders and start forward. He sprang towards her but just missed catching the end of her cape in his fingers as she set off in a brisk straight-legged gait. He ended up tangling his own feet in his spontaneous haste to grab her and fell to his knees, and gave her a fantastic head start. 

Anna set her weapon hand on the hilt of her saber, ready to draw at a moment’s notice. When she was several feet away, Elsa and her party finally noticed her presence. The next few seconds passed in a blur. Rapunzel’s guard, Cassandra, as well as the Arendellian guardsman took notice of Anna’s offensive stance and both reached for their weapons, as well. Hans backed away in startled surprise at the dangerous glare the redhead held him in. 

Elsa’s hand shot forward to press against the front of Anna’s shoulder just as Flynn arrived from the back to tightly grasp his companion around the nape of her neck. He leaned down to whisper harshly in her ear.

“What the hell are you doing?”

But there wasn’t a need for him to restrain her. As soon as the blonde’s hand had made contact with her shoulder, any petty anger Anna felt had dissipated instantaneously, and only welcoming calm filled her. Her eyes jumped to Elsa’s and the dark glare dropped away, her irises flooding back to their normal sparkling teal. 

“It seemed like this gentleman was bothering you.” She said quietly.

The corner of Elsa’s lips quirked up, just barely but Anna noticed, and her free hand encircled Hans’ upper arm. 

“My brother,” She said pointedly. “Wasn’t bothering me at all.”

Anna felt her face heat in utter embarrassment. Why, _how_ , had she let her emotions get the better of her? The idea that the slightly-built man could have been the young Prince of Arendelle hadn’t crossed the redhead’s mind. She had briefly pictured Elsa’s brother to be older, not younger, and blonde as well. Possessing shining eyes and a dazzling smile, like any cliche prince one would read of in a fairy tale. In hindsight, that had been foolish.

She pulled out of Flynn’s grip and dropped into a deep, apologetic bow in front of Hans. Her copper hair swung forward to obscure her face and, hopefully she thought, the shame written all over it. 

“Prince Hans, Your Highness, I beg your forgiveness. I-I wasn’t in my right mind - I mean, I don’t know what came over me,” Her voice dropped to a murmur. “Gods, what’s wrong with me?”

Hans shot a bewildered look around at the rest of his company. His guardsman, he noted, still had his sword half drawn and was watching Anna with wary eyes. The boy prince smiled then and shook his head lightly at the man, who straightened and sheathed the blade. Hans turned back to the kneeling Dovorian and reached down to pull her up by an elbow. 

“If you’re willing to attack first and ask questions later for the sake of my sister’s wellbeing, then you have my blessing. I take back the doubts I had about you, in any case.” 

He laughed and held his hand out for shaking, which Anna took after only a slight hesitation. Her gaze flittered back and forth between the royal siblings, tinged with puzzlement. 

“Oh… thank you.”

“My Father is expecting me at his side tonight, so I should be off.” He turned to address Elsa. “Enjoy your evening, sister. But,” He wrinkled his nose. “Not too much…?”

The princess simply rolled her eyes. Anna watched Hans walk away, her brows pinching lightly at his odd gait, as if he wore too large of boots and had to shuffle his feet along. Her eyes caught Flynn’s, who still stood behind her, and his stance finally softened, shoulders sagging in relief, but he still shook his head at her in disappointment. Without a word, he turned on his heel and left to retake his place at the top of the staircase. 

“Oh, who _is_ that?”

The fighter turned back to see Rapunzel staring after Flynn with a cheeky grin on her lips. 

“The man who thinks he must babysit me, unfortunately.” Anna mumbled.

The women before her cocked their heads at her words. 

“Sorry. Flynn Rider, Dovoryn’s best fighting man next to myse… Andreas. I would be careful around him, Your Highness. He has quite the reputation as a womanizer.”

Rapunzel’s grin only grew. Cassandra tapped her charge’s shoulder and pointed down the hall in the direction the others had gone. The bored expression was back in place on her face, as if nothing had happened in the moments prior. The brunette princess tugged excitedly on both Anna and Elsa’s sleeves while bouncing on her heels.

“It’s time! Let’s go!”

She and Cassandra left then to join the growing crowd at the top of the stairs, consisting of Arendelle’s royal family and ranking nobles. Anna spotted Flynn among them, with a rather ravishing older woman on his arm. As if sensing the redhead’s eyes on her, the woman turned her head to meet her, and Anna shivered involuntarily as piercing grey eyes bore into her own. Her sight went in and out of focus as a sharp ringing sounded in her ears. The woman seemed so familiar, though Anna couldn’t remember ever seeing her before. The stirring in her chest that had been a nuisance all day suddenly flared up with a vengeance, and a hard exhale escaped her lungs.

“Anna?”

Elsa’s voice broke through the ringing, breaking Anna from whatever… trance she had been under. 

“Huh?” She asked, and then immediately grimaced. That was dumb.

“I said… you’re rather eye-catching this evening.”

The fighter allowed a smile to cross her face. “And you’re looking… um….”

Her words failed as she truly took in Elsa for the first time. Her eyes trailed easily along the princess’s form. She wore a thin silvery gown that lacked the thicker skirts typical of Arendellian fashion, and instead split all the way past the knee on one side that Anna was sure was considered scandalous in this kingdom but would be right at home in her own. Her shoulders were bare, except for the braid of beautiful white-blonde hair that fell forward over the left. Anna knew she was slack-jawed, gaping in an idiotic fashion, but she could not help herself. 

“You’re… mesmerizing….” She squeaked.

She stared a moment longer, appreciating the pink tinge suddenly painting Elsa’s ivory cheeks, before blinking quickly and shaking herself out of her stupor.

“Gods, I’m sorry. Forgive me for staring. That’s embarrassing.” 

The princess raised a hand to rest it against Anna’s cheek, which Anna leaned into almost instinctively. She didn’t care if it was the magical connection between them that made her act in such a way or not, Anna wanted more of the blonde’s cool, soft touch.

“It isn’t embarrassing for me.”

Another goofy smile overtook the redhead and she nuzzled harder into Elsa’s palm. If the people of Dovoryn could see their Crimson Warrior now, would they still find her to be so fearsome?

……

As Anna scanned the room one more time, her gaze caught on someone she hadn’t expected to see. She wasn’t sure if seeing Honeymaren was really disquieting, or if it was just the memory of the Northuldran’s cryptic words from earlier. She glanced away before she could be spotted in return, but the uncertain frown now marring her features wasn’t so easily dismissed. Under normal circumstances, Anna could drop any expression from her face in an instant and turn herself into an unreadable mystery. But circumstances weren’t normal, not with Elsa next to her, not with the perplexing feelings said woman brought out in her. It was maddening, but at the same time Anna felt free. 

“What is it?” Elsa asked.

“Oh, nothing,” Anna shook her head, searching her mind quickly for a change of subject. “I was wondering… why hasn’t - um, why hasn’t anyone approached you tonight?” 

Elsa hummed quietly and searched the crowd until she found Hans at the head of the room, looking flustered at the attention of several ladies. She nodded in his direction.

“I’m not the one people wish to see.”

Anna frowned. “But you’re next in line for the throne. Or…?”

“I am, yes. People are happy to avoid me, because they say I have a tendency to be,” She looked to Anna with a shrug and a smile. “A little bit odd.”

“Odd? I can’t see it.”

Elsa simply smiled again. She reached out to slip a hand into the crook of the redhead’s elbow and began to tug her across the ballroom and out a darkened doorway. Anna allowed herself to be pulled along, farther from the noise and, admittedly, stifling heat of the gala. She shot the blonde a wondering smirk when she stripped off her heels and tossed them carelessly back the way they had come. Her bare feet padded soundlessly against the thickly carpeted hall; a contrast to the heavier tromping of Anna’s boots.

“People here don’t seem to like it when their princess galavants around in her bare feet.”

They had come to a wide junction between hallways, and Elsa finally released Anna’s arm. The music and voices from the ballroom had quieted to an incoherent murmur behind them. The fighter tilted her head, prompting the princess to continue.

“My Father doesn’t appreciate it when his daughter steps out during a rainstorm only to return hours later soaked to the bone and making puddles on the pristine floorboards.” She laughed softly.

Anna remained quiet when Elsa turned back to look at her. She was eager to hear anything Elsa would tell her. Anna had never experienced another person confiding in her their feelings or secrets, not in this way. Runeard would tell her how much he loathed this man or liked another, but that felt more like business, it lacked any intimacy. 

“Word gets out about things. I suppose no one can resist a bit of gossip. Therefore, they think I’m _odd_.”

Anna’s brow furrowed. Going barefoot and enjoying a rain shower hardly seemed enough for one to qualify as “odd.” A voice in the back of her mind was saying Elsa was not telling her the most important part. But she wasn’t one to pry.

“We can be odd together. I’ve been told more than once how unusual I am.”

“In what ways?”

The redhead thought back to what words Runeard has used to describe her. Brooding, dark, callous. They had seemed to be compliments; she had taken them as thus. 

“In how I was raised, maybe. In how I was schooled to form my anger into a utilizable weapon to strike down my enemies.”

She looked up into Elsa’s face, fearing then that she had maybe said too much. The blonde’s eyes were wide with… something. Anna held her gaze - she didn’t dare shy away - until those blue eyes filled with something akin to understanding, and Elsa reached out to entangle their fingers. 

“Odd together. I like the sound of that.”

Anna released a shaky breath and glanced down at their connected hands. She broke her fingers away to trail them slowly down the inside of the other’s wrist, chuckling quietly at the line of goosebumps they left in their wake. She reveled in the coolness of that pale skin in contrast to the seemingly blazing heat of her own. The pads of her fingers skimmed along the soft lines of Elsa’s palm, and she observed the stark differences from her own. Elsa’s skin was soft, unbelievably so, but the fighter figured soft skin was a given when you were constantly waited on hand and foot. 

When Anna looked up again, Elsa’s face was inches from her own and only coming closer. Anna barely had time to feel shocked before the blonde’s lips were pressed against her own. They were surprisingly warm compared to the rest of her, she noted with humor. She flicked her eyes wildly, noticing that that sweet pink tinge had crossed Elsa’s cheeks again. 

Anna allowed her own eyes to flutter closed as she breathed in the princess’s scent; a hint of mint and something else, not unlike the fields behind the castle in Dovoryn, where the farmers tended to posts of rich vanilla vines. Her free hand balled into a fist as that annoying, incessant nag in her gut asked her what she thought she was doing. She had no place kissing the princess, she had no right to _want_ this. To want to dip her head and take the blonde’s bottom lip between her own and -

An abrupt shock of frigid coldness shot through Anna’s lips and down the back of her throat, quickly surging through every inch of her body, seeping into the very tips of her fingers and toes. It felt as if she were thirteen years old again, and Captain Francis had just ordered her tossed into the city’s frozen lake in the dead of a harsh Dovorian winter as punishment for her disobedience. Icy water had invaded her senses so wholly, so absolutely. She had been blinded and deafened and struck dumb even when her head broke the surface and her numb limbs flailed desperately. 

The redhead came back to herself to find she and Elsa were separated now, and she held the blonde captive against the wall with her forearm pressed along her collarbone, her hand holding her shoulder in a white-knuckled grip, and fingers digging into soft flesh. She released her immediately and stepped back.

“Did I hurt you?”

The princess shook her head slowly, but continued to stare at her with wide eyes full of dread and slight wonder. Fear of what, Anna couldn’t be sure. What had caused this? _Who_ had caused this? Had it been Elsa, or had it been her? Elsa didn’t seem affected in the same way, just baffled and concerned. She was chewing her lip and casting her eyes about in worry.

“Are you hurt?” Anna asked again, trying to control the chattering of her teeth.

“N-no, I’m fine.” 

Anna’s keen eyes caught the movement as Elsa rolled one hand into a loose fist and attempted to discreetly hide it within the fabric of her dress. Anna shot forward and snatched her by the wrist, squeezing firmly to prompt her to unfurl her fingers. The redhead huffed stormily at her discovery. Angry scarlet lines resembling her fingers - indeed, exactly where her fingers had lain - marked Elsa’s palm, almost like a burn but not fresh, as if the injury was several years old. Anna looked up at the blonde indignantly.

“It doesn’t hurt, I promise. I just - I felt something strange, and - wait, y-you’re bleeding!”

She was correct. Anna felt a trickle of blood leak from her nose and she swiped it away with two fingers, jerking at a new sensation. The blood was freezing to the touch. 

Honeymaren’s words sprang to the front of the fighter’s mind.

_“A god has bestowed you with their blessing.”_

_“There’s a darkness behind your eyes, Anna.”_

“Anna, are you alright?” Elsa asked quietly.

The fighter blinked. She swiped again at the blood now steadily flowing from her nose, only succeeding in smearing the substance across her cheek. She _had_ been the one to cause… whatever this was. 

“I-I don’t know,” She breathed out. “I’m sorry.”

Without another glance at Elsa, she quickly backpedaled and hurried away down the dim hallway, not quite at a run. She passed back down the long corridor Elsa had brought her along, back through the crowded ballroom, where she ignored any and all strange and concerned and vexed looks thrown her way, and back through the other winding halls of the castle, until she was out the front doors and striding across the lawn on her way to… she wasn’t sure, anywhere, anyplace, where she could collect herself and breathe and just get _away_. 

Something in her, likely that loathsome beast she kept chained in her heart, or that stupid gut nag, one of which she was sure was her “blessing” from a god, had acted out. What was it? Retaliation because for the first time in her life she felt understood by someone? Because she wanted to embrace her feelings (whatever they may be) for the princess instead of hiding them away and never dwelling on them again, as she had been taught? Fear and anger boiled up in her chest, threatening to burst free, but Anna couldn’t allow it, not here, not while potentially in view of so many people. 

“Crimson!”

Flynn’s voice carried across the grounds, but Anna didn’t stop nor did she look back at him. She could hear him running to catch up with her and she wished desperately that he would turn back. She feared a confrontation with him right then.

“Anna!” He yelled sharply.

“What?!” She snarled, as he sank his hand down onto her shoulder.

He flipped her roughly around to face him, but faltered as he caught sight of the amount of blood streaked across her cheeks and now dripping down her chin. His anger at her quickly changed to anger at someone else, an unknown suspect who had dared to bloody the protege of King Runeard. 

“What happened? Who did this?” 

The man looked around, as if the assailant were out on the lawn with them. Anna turned to continue on her way, waving a hand at him dismissively. 

“No one. It’s nothing.”

Flynn followed after her, right on her heels, reaching out to again grab her by the shoulder and force her to face him. 

“ _Anna_ , what the hell has happened?”

“I said it’s _nothing_!”

She glared up at him with as much venom as she could muster at the moment. Flynn was unperturbed however, and pulled his handkerchief from inside his vestment to dab it against his companion’s nose. She tried to jerk away, but he held her fast, until he had cleaned away most of the mess. The flow of blood had noticeably slowed, and Flynn sighed inwardly with relief, and outwardly allowed his own glare to soften. 

“Are you finished? Leave me be!”

Anna growled angrily as she pushed away from him and continued across the lawn and out the castle gate. Flynn didn’t attempt to follow her this time, just stared after her retreating form in defeat. He had a few guesses as to how the fighter had sustained such an injury, but he hoped none of them were correct. If Anna had fought with anyone - _anyone_ \- besides a fellow Dovorian, he didn’t want to think of what King Runeard’s punishment for her may be. 

……

When Flynn had slowly trudged back into the gala and the presence of his charge, he felt drained. Such a feeling was unusual for him; Flynn was always for events that raged into the early hours of the morning and beautiful women on his arm, even if this particular one was older than he was used to. 

“Oh, my dear, is everything alright with your friend?”

The brunet looked up into the grey eyes of Lady Gothel. She was watching him with worried eyes, a look of deep caring etching into her features. 

“I’m sure things will be fine.” Flynn composed himself and hit her with his most winning smile. “I don’t believe a woman so regal as you need concern herself with such trivial matters.”

Gothel swatted him lightly on the shoulder. “Oh, you flatterer.”

She caught sight of the bloodied handkerchief still gripped in his fingers. Her eyes widened and her breath hitched imperceptibly. Could it be…?

“Oh? What’s this? Are you injured, my dear?” 

“Hm? Oh, no. It’s from my… friend.” Flynn felt uncomfortable using that word when referring to Anna.

Gothel reached for the scrap of cloth and plucked it from his hand.

“Well, we wouldn’t want something as soiled as this soiling our evening together,” She laughed, high-pitched and brazen. “Allow me to dispose of this for you.”

Flynn frowned, but allowed her to keep the handkerchief nonetheless. He laughed along with the woman, not noticing as she discreetly pushed the cloth up the sleeve of her dress.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, wow, I'm sorry to anyone who has been waiting on this. I caught a horrible stomach bug a couple weeks ago and am just now getting over it. Don't believe it was Covid, as I didn't have any respiratory issues. Man, though, it was one of the worst flus I've ever experienced. Terrible!
> 
> Anyway, I think I should also mention that Cassandra isn't related to Gothel in this and nothing follows the storyline of the Tangled series. Really, she's just there as a sort of filler character. I don't know. She might have her uses later on. Thank you to all who have commented and subscribed and all that jazz! You're the best! Thanks for reading!


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